Hiraeth
by ReiLarroca
Summary: When he was four, Tsuna was kidnapped by the Estraneo Family. He lost his mother, his brother, and his freedom. But Skies don't take loss very well. "Never again." Gen Fic, Adult!Arcobalenos, Different!Guardians.
1. Prologue

Nana's boys were four when the world crashed and burned around her.

The story went like this:

A relatively nice day – warm and sunny and full of the promise of spring.

Nana – busy in the kitchen, keeping an eye on the front yard where her sons were running after a ball while she got their afternoon snacks ready.

Squeals and giggles filled the air.

Everything was normal, just like Nana wanted it.

Steady and quiet and familiar.

Then the phone rang, and her little black and white world suddenly exploded in a firework of blinding colors.

( _Iemitsu_ ).

She rushed out of the house for some last-minute shopping, her mind bustling with recipes and ingredients. There was so much to prepare, so much to do − too much, really − and a twenty-four-hour warning was not enough to get everything organized. But it was alright. Nana could deal with short time notices and last-minute phone calls if it meant she would finally, _finally_ , get the chance to prove that the four of them belonged together.

The local grocery store was packed. She danced her way down the different aisles and threw anything that caught her fancy into the cart, barely aware that Natsume and Tsunayoshi were watching her with wide eyes and gaping mouths.

Nana beamed at them, explaining for the tenth time in so many minutes that " _Papa is coming home_."

That... was not met by unanimous cheers.

The twins blinked, not understanding what the fuss was about, and even though Nana was all but vibrating with happiness, even though she felt like laughing and laughing and never stopping − something small and fragile still withered and died in her chest as she saw her boys' reactions.

Because pictures alone meant nothing. Because stories would never be enough. Because all the stories in the world couldn't explain to a pair of toddlers what a _dad_ was.

( _Sometimes, she felt like screaming that this wasn't what she'd been promised, that it wasn't −_ )

Nana squashed the ugly feeling under a giggle.

She squatted down and gently tweaked Na-chan's nose. "I'm sure your Papa can't wait to see you two again. Aren't you glad to finally meet him after so long, Na-chan? Tsu-kun?"

Her youngest let out a peal of laughter. "Yes! I want to play with Papa!"

Tsu-kun's eyes went wide. "M-me, too."

Nana giggled again, and this time it was genuine.

The three of them stepped out of the store half an hour later. It was already late in the evening and a beautiful sunset was painting the horizon in lovely hues of pink and purple.

Nana sighed happily at the sight, taking it as an encouraging sign. Surely the universe was stamping its approval on her family's impending reunion. Right?

 _Right_.

Her arms full of grocery bags, she did some careful balancing and precarious jostling to transfer everything to her left side so that she could grab Tsu-kun's hand. Without needing any prompting, Tsu-kun immediately reached out and snatched his little brother's flailing fist from the air, gently bringing the blubbering boy closer to his side. Brown eyes looked up at Nana, warm and calm and trusting, and she had to resist the urge to squeal at the adorable face.

She settled for a big smile. "Let's go, my darlings."

They started the ten-minute walk home, Nana cheerfully leading the way, her children trailing after her like baby ducklings. She dodged the few pedestrians moving around them, noting that the evening crowd was starting to thin out.

Na-chan's chirpy voice filled her ears non-stop, a constant flow of childish chatter that encompassed everything and anything from the stars in the sky to the colony of ants digging holes in their backyard. Nana grinned down at him, her chest filled with pride. Natsume was such a bright boy, so full of life and curiosity. He drew in everyone around him like a magnet, his personality attracting attention from adults and children alike, as if his presence, his very existence, was impossible to overlook.

A little further ahead, the street widened into a large crossroad.

Nana turned left, disappearing down a small alley that lead back to their neighborhood.

"Mama? Ma- _ma_." Na-chan was trotting a bit ahead of Tsu-kun, his head twisted to the side so that he could look back at her. He pouted. "You're not listening."

"Of course I'm listening, Na-chan." Nana laughed, took a deep breath, and confirmed that _yes, robots most definitely were the best-est heroes in the whole wide world_ , and that _no, Hizashi-san, the nice old man living down their street was not, in fact, an alien from outer space_. And _no_ – definitely, _no_ – _jumping down from the roof wouldn't let Na-chan fly. Ever._

In contrast to his little brother's excited behavior, Tsu-kun remained silent as they walked, content to trail quietly in the wake of his loud twin.

Nana glanced down at her eldest, found him smiling up at her, and felt her own face lit up in response.

She never noticed the man until his shoulder had slammed into her own.

 _Hard_.

He was very big and she was not.

The impact sent her stumbling back a step.

Nana yelped, surprised, and lost the grip she had around the heavy grocery bags she carried. They flew from her arms, crashing onto the sidewalk. Fruits and vegetables rolled in every direction, her oranges and onions spilling from the bags as if making a mad bid for freedom.

Nana quickly dropped to her knees with a stammered _sorry_ , letting go of Tsu-kun's hand in her hurry.

Before anything else could be said, she caught sight of the man's dark shoes disappearing just around the corner at the end of the alley, his steps hurried and sharp. Nana frowned, miffed that the stranger hadn't bothered with a single apology.

A small hand wrapped around the hem of her shirt and tugged slightly. "Mama?" Na-chan whispered, pressing himself against her side, his lips quivering. "You hurt?"

She smiled. "Don't worry, honey, I'm – _ah!_ Tsu-kun, wait!"

Her other son had started to pick up the fruits from the ground, collecting them in his shirt. He was holding the fabric in front of him like a small pouch, slowly but surely going after the oranges that had rolled the farthest away from Nana.

"Just one more!" he called back, disappearing around the corner of a walled front yard.

Nana hastily threw a box of cereals into her bag, shoved one last apple in her pocket, then grabbed Na-chan's hand firmly with her own.

"Tsu-kun!" She scrambled after the older twin, frazzled and upset. "I already told you the other day when we went to the park, remember? You must always stay close to me. It's not … safe... to..."

The narrow alley between the classic suburban houses was empty.

A handful of oranges and apples were scattered on the pavement, still rolling with the momentum of an unexpected fall. One of them came to a stop right in front of Nana's feet, lightly kissing the tip of her left shoe.

A chill abruptly ran down her spine, leaving her cold and shivering.

"Tsu-kun?" She took a hesitant step forward, then walked to the next intersection and back again.

No answer. Just silence and the loud drum of her own pulse.

And within the space of two earth-shattering heartbeats, Nana _knew_.

"Tsu-kun, where are you?" A strangled gasp wheezed out of her chest. She dropped the grocery bags again and didn't care this time when fruits and drinks and fish splattered everywhere around her. She snatched Na-chan in her arms and held him tight as she moved in a slow circle. "Tsu-kun! _Tsuna!_ "

Nothing.

No sweet voice calling back to her, no sheepish boy to offer her a shy smile of regret.

Something in Nana broke.

She ran down the alley, then another one and another one again, yelling her son's name, all but mad with panic, feeling as if the air had been punched right out of her lungs.

She didn't find him. Tsu-kun had vanished into thin air and she _did not know what to do_.

Nana eventually rushed back home and alerted the police. Officers and volunteers were soon carefully combing the neighborhood, looking for Tsuna, friends and family joining the search with concerned faces and worried looks aimed at Nana. She called Iemitsu, hit his voice mail, and left a message ‒ a blubbering mess about shopping and oranges and losing their eldest son ‒ before dashing back out of the house, white-hot disbelief keeping her walking all over Namimori late into the night.

They didn't find him.

Her Tsu-kun had disappeared.

Iemitsu arrived the following day, unsmiling and surrounded by dozens of men dressed in black suits. They were a gift from his boss, he told her, to help look for their Tsuna-fish and make sure that Na-chan would be safe.

Nana didn't really care about his lies as long as he brought her boy back home.

Except that he did not.

Days after excruciating days of waiting in vain passed, then weeks and months. A man in an official uniform finally sat her down in a chair at the police station and told her that Tsu-kun was still nowhere to be found, that there were no clues, that _too much time had passed_.

"But we'll keep looking, ma'am," he tried to reassure her. "We won't give up."

All Nana heard was, _your son is gone_ , and _you'll never see him again_.

She wanted to scream. She wanted to curse at them and shake them and demand results. She wanted to _die_.

Hell, Nana learned during those first terrible months, was not a bottomless pit made of scarlet brimstones and raging firestorms burning hotter that the sun. No, people had it wrong. They had it completely wrong, because Nana's hell was made of _what if_ , and _should have_ , and _could have_. It smelled of rotting regrets and devastating heartache cold enough to freeze the blood in your veins.

( _Your fault_.)

Rest was a comfort she did not deserve, did not want, and so Nana did not sleep. She wandered aimlessly around the house instead, picking up the habit somewhere along the line of slipping in Na-chan's bedroom during the middle of the night. She could sit silently by his bed for hours on end, counting his breaths, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest.

Time passed.

The terror eventually loosened the chokehold it had around her throat, growing just a little bit less lethal as months turned into years. The bleeding hole that had appeared where her heart used to be closed up into an awful, twisted scar. It was ugly and messy but at least it no longer threatened to tear open each time she dared to breathe too deep. Nana even learned to ignore the monster hiding under that scar. She slowly became able to dismiss the terrible words that floated in her mind during the dead of the night. She buried them under a smile and a laugh until one day she managed to look at Na-chan without giving in to the urge of wrapping her arms around him and never, ever, let go again.

She watched him walk through the gates of Namimori's elementary school with his friends and turned around to go back home, eyes dry and a smile fixed on her face.

She sent him off to middle school and high school with a kiss and a lunch-box, all the while inwardly chanting that it was okay, that everything was fine, just fine, perfectly fine.

( _Don't be silly, don't cry, don't break, don'tdon'tdon't ‒)_

It was a daily struggle, a never-ending battle, and Nana fought so hard every step of the way.

And yet it wasn't always enough.

Sometimes, in spite of her best efforts, Nana's weakness won and the monster's whispers of _all your fault_ and _you deserve this_ grew too loud. It summoned pictures in her head that were too horrible to contemplate and too ugly to ignore. And then, inexorably, like a shadow, even after years and years had passed, Nana would drift back into Na-chan's room while he slept to confirm that he was still breathing, that at least one of her boys was still there.

But it never stopped hurting.

( _All. Your. Fault_.)

.

* * *

.

Tsuna woke up with a start, scared and his heart racing hard and fast against his ribcage.

He was lying on a flat, cold surface. Everything around him was plunged in complete darkness. He couldn't see anything.

His breath hitched in his throat, a strangled gasp that seemed to explode like a thunderclap in the absolute silence.

"Mama?" he called, his voice a wobbly little squeak. The faint sound resonated all around him, creating an intimidating echo that reminded him of cavernous holes and gaping emptiness.

Tsuna frantically looked around, widening his eyes almost painfully in an attempt at piercing the thick darkness.

It didn't work.

A small whimper tore its way out of his chest. He pressed himself hard on the floor, feeling very small and helpless.

Was someone in there with him? He didn't think so − didn't have that strange tingly feeling he sometimes got when people he didn't like were watching him from afar. But then again, Tsuna had only sensed the Bad Man's presence after it had already been too late to do anything about it. Big arms had closed around him like twin bands of iron, unyielding and merciless, and had lifted him in the air. Tsuna remembered the feeling of apples and oranges tumbling from his hands as he was jerked backward against an unfamiliar wall of muscles. The scream building in his chest had never made it out in the open before a wet clothe had been pressed over his face. And then − nothing.

His body started to shake.

He wanted to go home. He wanted Mama and Na-kun and even the Papa-person his mother wouldn't stop talking about.

Sharp hiccups shattered the deafening silence.

Tsuna struggled to breathe in between whimpers. He tucked his body in a tight ball of quivering limbs as violent sobs wracked his whole frame. He started to feel dizzy, his head light and empty and spinning.

Mama had always called him her _brave boy_ , and it had never failed to make him flush with pleasure – especially that one time when Na-kun had kicked his favorite ball under the porch and Mama had been too big to crawl under the steps to get it back. He hadn't wanted to do it, hadn't wanted to go into that dark opening where monsters could hide and pounce on him. But Na-kun had been crying so hard, his mother had looked so upset, and Tsuna had gotten down on his hands and knees and dragged himself toward the lost ball. And it had been worth it to flounder in damp dirt and have creepy bugs run all over his hands and face. Mama's smile had been blinding and the hug from Na-kun had made him feel all warm and happy inside.

 _What a brave boy you are, Tsu-kun. Mama's so proud_.

A small part of Tsuna's mind replayed his mother's words as he hugged his knees to his chest, salty tears running down his face. He didn't feel particularly brave just then. Didn't feel anything but the bottomless pit of stark terror deep in his belly.

A door somewhere on his left banged open.

Tsuna started violently, jerking around to shield his eyes from the sudden flood of light. He blinked rapidly, dazed, and automatically took in the room he was in. As expected, it was empty, its walls bare and white. It was also big. _Very_ big. Tsuna thought that it might have been even bigger than his house and front yard and backyard all put together.

Also, there was no trace of Mama or Na-kun. He was alone.

The sound of footsteps pulled Tsuna's attention back to the newcomers.

Two men had entered the room. One was tall and dark haired, dressed in jeans and a blue button-up shirt. His features were set in a bored expression but his eyes were bright and cheerful. The second man was shorter, slimmer, his hair a shade of blond so light that Tsuna had only ever seen it in the movies Na-chan liked so much. He was wearing a long white coat that reached down to his knees. He looked like a doctor – but not really.

Tsuna tensed.

Something in his chest tightened, a flare of heat that whispered _danger_ and _hide_ and _run_.

Tsuna crawled back until his back hit a wall.

Somehow, that seemed to exasperate the smaller man. He sighed. " _Buon giorno, piccolo leone_."

Tsuna's mouth opened then closed. He stared.

The man's brows furrowed. Tsuna huddled harder against the wall, wrapping his arms around his knees.

( _Danger!)_

"W-where is Mama?" he asked.

The blond man squatted down in front of him. A stream of strange words fell from his lips. He glanced at the other stranger and said one firm, " _Fallo_."

The taller man nodded and stepped forward. He smiled.

Tsuna scrambled up to his feet. A scream filled his head.

( _Run!_ )

The man pulled one fist back. And let it fly.

Fierce agony exploded in Tsuna's side. He collapsed on the floor, his head bouncing back against the hard surface, and lied there, winded and shocked and in pain.

He had never been hit before. Not by his Mama, not by his brother, or by anyone else.

Tsuna looked up at the tall man and knew it was only just the beginning.

 _Why_ , he wanted to ask. _Whywhywhywhywhy_ −

The small man in the white coat frowned. Another series of incomprehensible gibberish filled the air. Tsuna could only stare. The deep lines that marred the man's forehead creased. His expression was clear enough. He was annoyed.

A slap this time.

Tsuna's head whipped to the right. He cried out, hands weakly flying up to protect his face. Something warm trickled down his cheek. It was red and thick. The word _blood_ did not register until he felt its metallic taste on his tongue.

Then a foot caught him into his belly.

Tsuna slid over the floor, the momentum of the kick carrying him to the middle of the room. He coughed. A weird, rattling sound started deep in his chest.

The tall stranger sauntered over to where Tsuna had come to a stop, and there was no time for crying, or begging, or escaping. A large hand closed around his neck. Tsuna choked as he was pulled into the air by nothing but the long fingers wrapped around his throat.

The big man brought his face very close to Tsuna's. His breath was warm and smelled of something fresh and minty. " _Brucia_ ," he said cheerfully. "It means you have to burn, Tsuna-kun. Let your Flames out. Come on, show me you're still the same. Even now, in this place."

All around him, the world was growing duller, somehow distant and disconnected from everything.

Tsuna didn't know anything about death, but he instinctively recognized _dying_. He saw it stalking closer as the edges of his vision darkened, heard it in the shrill ringing that started in his ears, felt it in the spinning sensation that stuffed his head full of cotton and made him want to throw up.

Tsuna was never going back home.

He was never going to see Mama and Na-kun again.

The tall man was still talking, his words blending into each other without making any sort of sense. He shook Tsuna a little, and even though his body was seconds away from shutting down, even though he was sort of falling asleep, a small part of Tsuna's brain idly noted that the other man, the smaller bully in a white coat, was getting impatient.

With _him_.

Like one of those mean boys at the playground and started to throw a tantrum.

Tsuna's eyes snapped open.

( _How dare you_.)

A storm of outrage rushed in his veins, a blend of _enough_ , and _I'll hurt you_ , and _let me go_.

Those men had taken him from Na-kun and Mama. They had locked him away. They had made him bleed.

 _Burn_ , the man, the _monster_ , had said.

And Tsuna − four-year-old, terrified, _dying_ Tsuna – thought, _yes. Yes, burn_.

He reached up for the wrist attached to the hand that was strangling him. His fingers closed around warm skin.

It melted.

" _Merda!_ " The man yelped and jerked back, releasing him with a startled laugh that was all delighted surprise. Tsuna plummeted down and slammed into the floor. He didn't feel any pain when his forehead smacked against cool tiles.

He just glared up at the two bullies and _screamed_.

The world burst into howling flames.

Tsuna let it burn.

.

* * *

.

... hm, hi?

Here's the prologue of a plot-bunny that's been stalking me for several months. I finally gave in and started to write it. It's going to be somewhat cliche and mostly self-indulging, but I still want to get it out in the open.

I've been a lurker on this site for years now but, hey, it's never too late to start, right?

Anyway, I hope you enjoy it.

Rei.


	2. Captive I

( _Careful_.)

The warning brushed against the back of his mind, like smoke whispering in the air.

Tsuna looked up from where he'd been drawing idle circles on the floor with the tip of a finger.

The only door of their room − of their cell – swung open.

Amadeo and Jenoah walked in, the former carrying a plastic box in his arms. If Tsuna's rumbling stomach hadn't already told him it was time for their meal then the sight of that white container would have tipped him off. He perked up, sitting straighter, the silent warning momentarily forgotten.

The plastic box was deposited at Amadeo's feet. The man rummaged inside for a second, then stood up. A scowl came over his features as he took in the cluster of children staring up at him with dark eyes.

"Well?" he barked. "What are you little shits waiting for? Get in a fucking line!"

Kids − boys and girls, big and small − jumped to their feet at the order. They scrambled forward, falling into a neat line along the way, and not a single word was spoken.

There was no struggle between the nine of them. The pecking order had been decided long before that moment, well away from the all-seeing eyes of their keepers and their potential interference. In this world of white walls and artificial lights, each child knew exactly where they stood on the food chain. The results were clear cut, the endgame simple enough – either you were strong and were left alone, or you were weak and got to be bossed around. No one really cared about fairness or kindness. Those were concepts that belonged to _Before_. They didn't mean anything anymore, hadn't meant anything from the moment someone in a white coat had strapped them to an examination table and told them _you can scream_.

Tsuna quietly slid in his attributed spot, the eighth one, right behind Number Seven. The only reason he wasn't dead last was that the girl who stood behind him was so painfully skinny she could barely stand on her own. Even now, Tsuna pretended not to notice when a small hand landed on his back as she swayed with the effort of staying upright.

The girl – she had never offered her name, and Tsuna had never pried – leaned heavily against him. Bony limbs dug into his shoulder blades, sharp and insistent. He could feel her breaths brushing the back of his neck, quick and warm and speaking of bone-deep exhaustion.

He should shove her away. Push her so hard that she would collapse and be unable to grab her meal. There'd be an unclaimed ration then, and perhaps he would be lucky enough to snatch it before anyone else noticed.

His stomach growled at the thought of more food. Hunger twisted his insides, a vicious monster that was always there, prowling at the back of his mind, stalking him even in his dreams.

But no.

Just – _no_.

Tsuna planted his feet a bit more firmly on the floor, grounded himself to support the additional weight, and pretended that the girl didn't exist. It was easy. He'd had much practice.

His eyes swept along the line in front of him, taking in the queuing children, the guards' positions and the shadows of guns strapped under their suits.

As usual, Amadeo had gone to stand by the door, arms crossed over his chest, glaring at his charges with sharp suspicion as if he expected them to make a run for it at any moment. He didn't need to worry, though. They all knew how pointless it would be. The few guards patrolling the long hallways beyond the door ensured that any runaway wouldn't make it ten steps outside before being taken down. And their collars dispelled the very thought of escaping before it could even take root in their minds.

Tsuna absently fingered the band of metal wrapped around his neck.

It was cold and heavy, but he barely noticed its presence these days. Tracing the smooth surface, he wondered what had caused the earlier spike of heat in his chest. The scene unfolding around him was mundane enough that he could get through it out of muscle memory alone. There was nothing unusual about it. Just a routine event that repeated itself day after day after day.

So why?

( _Now_.)

The door opened again.

A man – a brunet, unknown, not one of their guards – stepped inside the cell, pushing a boy in front of him with uncompromising hands.

Tsuna risked one quick look at the kid. He was small, had wavy blond hair, and was very skinny. His expression was set in a deep scowl, one that dared the world to come at him and do its worst.

 _I don't care_ , that look seemed to say. _I don't fucking care and you can't do anything about it._

"Huh." Amadeo's eyes snapped to the newcomers. "That's the replacement? Little twerp's not looking all that fresh."

Tsuna blinked.

The replacement.

Of course.

He should have seen it coming. A couple of days earlier, the youngest girl in their group had been taken out of the cell and had never made it back. It wasn't all that unusual, and everyone else had taken it in strides, expecting another kid to show up and fill in the vacant space soon enough.

"Do I look like I give a single fuck?" the other guard drawled, shoving his charge forward. The boy stumbled, barely managing to keep standing. "Here you go. Package officially delivered breathing and kicking. My part's done."

He threw a lazy salute, turned right on his heels, and walked out.

"Fucking dick," Amadeo muttered, showing his middle fingers at the retreating figure.

The new boy was still standing in front of them all, swaying slightly, as if every moment threatened to send him toppling to the floor. He was glaring a hole in the side of Amadeo's head.

The man seemed to feel the burning look aimed his way. He grabbed the boy's shoulder and whirled him around so that they were both facing the rest of the room.

"So," he said, "everything's pretty much the same as in your last cell, but while you're here there's one rule you've got to carve into your brain. No blood. Ever. I don't care how much you shitheads fight among yourself. The very first drop of red I catch you spilling on my watch will get you zapped so hard you'll feel it in your sleep. You get me?"

Tsuna twitched at the word _zapped_.

The band of metal hugging his neck seemed to tighten. To grow heavier. Colder.

The new boy kept his mouth stubbornly shut.

Amadeo raised a single eyebrow. And brushed a finger against the control bracelet on his left wrist.

The boy immediately yelped, both hands flying up to his neck, a flinch of pain washing over his face.

"I said, _you get me?_ "

" _Yes,_ " came the growled answer.

And then, abruptly, Tsuna couldn't see what was happening with the new boy anymore. Black filled his sight, obscuring everything. He startled, eyes jumping up to the face that had appeared inches above his own.

"Wakey, wakey," Jenoah crooned, smiling wide and white. "Don't get lost in your daydreams and forget to eat, Tsuna-kun. You need to keep up your strength."

The other children had already grabbed their allotted food for the day, Tsuna realized with a spike of alarm. They had all retreated deeper into the cell, huddling in groups of two or three as they started to eat in silence. Even the newcomer had been given his share.

"Come on," Jenoah continued, pulling Tsuna's attention back to him. His eyes creased as his smile went even bigger. "Aren't you hungry?"

"S-sorry." Tsuna hastily grabbed a piece of bread from the box and blinked in surprise when two lumps of sugar were pressed into his other hand.

"Don't forget these." Jenoah closed Tsuna's fingers around the little cubes. He beamed. "Enjoy the sweets while they're on the menu."

"Yes, sir."

A hand ruffled Tsuna's hair, and it was a struggle to resist the urge shrink and slap it away like a wounded animal. But that wouldn't do. Tsuna locked his knees before they could start shaking and endured the patting, counting the seconds as they crawled by.

Jenoah didn't seem to notice anything was amiss. "Sir?" He let out noise of protest, his mouth pulling down at the corners. "I told you to call me Oni-san!"

And now Tsuna did flinch away.

Jenoah was always enthusiastic whenever he saw Tsuna. The man tried to engage him in conversation as often as possible, spouting words of Tsuna's _Before_ as if it could tempt him into having an actual conversation with Jenoah.

But it had never worked, would never work, because Tsuna remembered all too well that Jenoah had been there that first time he had awakened far from his home – how easy it had been for the guard to hit him and kick him until something inside had snapped and his Flames had come roaring out. The resulting scar was still there. Tsuna had seen it. A wrinkled mess of thick and dark skin that spread from Jenoah's wrist almost all the way to his elbow.

A small part of Tsuna was waiting for retaliation, even years later.

It'd never happened, though.

Jenoah came and went, chatting and laughing and joking, without showing an ounce of resentment.

It was terrifying, really.

A light tap on his forehead.

Playful. Harmless.

"Try to say it," Jenoah said, leaning down to peer more closely at Tsuna. " _Oni-san_. Just once?"

Tsuna's lips remained stuck together as if cement had been poured over his mouth.

"Come on, repeat after me. _O-ni-san_ –"

"Hey," Amadeo cut in flatly. The other guard stood a little to the side, staring at his partner with a frown. "You done yet?"

Jeanoah grinned. "Yep!" Then, to Tsuna, "Duty's calling. See you later, Tsuna-kun!"

Later would be far too soon.

Tsuna quickly shuffled away while Amadeo and Jenoah collected the box on their way out. The door closed behind them with the sound of a lock sliding into place. A high-pitched _beep-beep_ echoed in the ensuing silence, indicating that their little cage had been sealed from the rest of the world.

Tsuna sat down in the corner the farthest away from the door.

It was easy to monitor the rest of the cell from there, and nestled as he was against two walls, his back was never left exposed to anyone.

The weak girl soon joined him, sitting close by. She had picked the habit of always orbiting around Tsuna during meal times, most likely because he'd never tried to steal from her. He didn't really mind. And it felt nice. To be around someone who wasn't out to hurt you.

Tsuna watched the small girl from the corner of his eyes, making sure that she was actually eating and not just going back to sleep. She tore a small bit of her piece of bread and started munching.

( _Good_.)

Tsuna's stomach twisted painfully.

It let out a loud rumble, reminding him that he was hungry, too. He dropped the bread on the floor, eyes zeroing in on the two lumps of sugar in his hand. The other kids had already eaten theirs without taking any time to savor the unusual treat. Suspicious glances were thrown around as they chewed. Temptation was a dangerous thing after all, and even if it didn't happen often, kids had fought before to steal food from others.

Tsuna quickly popped a white cube in his mouth. It melted on his tongue, sweet and thick, and he shuddered. How long had it been been since he'd last had the chance to eat something that did not taste like wet cardboard?

Minutes ticked away and the group of children around him slowly grew more confident the longer the door remained closed.

A hum of soft voices started to pick up. No one engaged in full-blown conversations, but even a murmured word here and there sounded loud and ringing in the silent cell. One girl whispered something to a boy. Another one leaned close and talked fast into his cellmate's ear. Even the loners like Tsuna were gradually relaxing, the tense lines of their bony shoulders dropping with weary relief.

Safe for now.

Tsuna swallowed, and immediately put the other lump of sugar in his mouth.

He tried not to think about what those unexpected treats could mean – about how the last time something sweet had been given to them it'd been to boost up their systems because the searchers had needed the kids to _keep up_.

No, he wasn't going to think about that. At all.

Tsuna's eyes drifted back to the front of the cell.

The new kid was still standing exactly where Amadeo had left him. His lips were pulled into a thin line, his whole body rigid, as if he were waiting for something to happen.

Which, if nothing else, proved that he wasn't an idiot.

Because something was definitely going to happen. Or rather, someone.

A long moment passed as the boy simply observed his unfamiliar surroundings. Then he sat down. Slowly. Warily. The long strands of his matted hair couldn't quite hide how his eyes kept darting all around the cell.

The wait wasn't very long after that.

Another kid soon stood up from a group of three sitting on Tsuna's right. It was a boy, pale and painfully thin. He made a bee-line for the newcomer.

Tsuna sighed.

Living in a cell did strange things to people. There were those who couldn't stand the constant pain and exhaustion. They withdrew into themselves until nothing was left but the empty shell of a person, always alone and silent and numb, like shadows made of shattered memories and forgotten dreams.

And then there were those who _hated_.

Emotions were a double-edged blade. They could cut you open like shards of glass or they made you strong. Hatred – bitter, _rotting_ hatred – was just like that. The fire burning in those kids was like a great void – a greedy, all-consuming black hole of nothing that desperately needed to be aimed at something. It wanted a target, an outlet, and the results were never pretty for the poor suckers who attracted that sort of attention.

Vito belonged to this second category.

He was a tall boy of around eleven years old, blond and blue-eyed with a fierce temperament everyone had learned to fear. He radiated hatred, was consumed by it, and sometimes it almost felt like you could be set on fire just by standing next to him.

Tsuna avoided him as much as possible. He was mostly successful. Others were less so.

Vito crossed the cell slowly, staring at the smaller boy with a hint of hunger on his face.

"So you're the one we get to keep this time," he said. "Huh. Can't say I'm impressed."

Tsuna licked the last bit of sugar from his fingers. A frown settled on his face. He squirmed a little, unease eating away at his insides.

Vito kept talking, "What's your name anyway?"

No response.

"Fine. I'll just call you Dumbass. Or Dipshit. Yeah, I like that one. _Dipshit_."

The new kid didn't answer. He pinned Vito with an icy stare, bit into his bread without breaking eye-contact, and started to eat.

Tsuna winced.

 _Bad move_.

Vito's attention zeroed in on the food. A calculating glint appeared in his eyes.

He stopped in front of his target and immediately reached down. "I'm hungry. You don't mind sharing, right? We're all going to be friends after all."

The tips of skinny fingers brushed against a lump of sugar.

The new boy slapped Vito's hand away with a resounding _smack_ and bared his teeth.

"Yes," he hissed. "I fucking mind, you big waste of space. Get out of my face and leave me. _Alone_."

Vito blinked. "Ouch. That's kinda harsh." He shook his hand a little in the air. "Hit me right here in the feels."

One second of silence – and then Vito _leaped_.

He tackled the smaller boy, and it was like watching a great cat pouncing on a juicy mouse.

The new kid let out a yelp as he found himself pinned to the floor, crushed under the weight of a much bigger body. He struggled, but it was no use.

"Let me ask you a question, Dipshit," Vito said casually, slowly wrapping his hands around the smaller boy's throat. "If I'm a waste of space, then what exactly does that make you right now?"

And maybe it was a trick of the light, maybe it was just his mind imagining things, but Tsuna thought that Vito's eyes had started to shine unnaturally. Just a bit. Like a spark of electricity flashing in the dark.

Gasping breaths.

A weak gurgle.

"Yep, you got it right. It makes you _nothing_. Just an idiot messing with the wrong person."

The boy glared. There was a spike of heat in the cell, a subtle hint of smoke and _back off_.

Vito's eyes narrowed. He squeezed harder.

The other kids in the cell watched quietly from the sidelines as Vito basically strangled the newcomer. No one spoke up to stop him, to try and diffuse the situation. It wasn't worth the risk to put themselves in harm's way, not when there was nothing to be gained from it. A cloud of cold indifference hovered around them, one that was reflected in the darkness of their eyes as they stayed silent and put. It was easy to guess at the thoughts running through their minds.

 _Better him than me._

Warmth flared in Tsuna's chest.

Vito was taller, heavier, and without fire to fight back fire, the skinny boy would get hurt.

Tsuna didn't like it.

He was up and walking before he'd realized his feet were moving.

Meanwhile, Vito had leaned down, his expression thoughtful. "What should I do with you now, Dipshit?" he asked. "They keep telling us that blood's off limit but I think broken bones are still okay."

Small hands clawed ineffectively at Vito's wrists.

The sound of frantic panting echoed in the room.

"Hey." Tsuna came to a stop behind the pair. He was shaking. "Stop it."

Vito looked up, distracted, and the other boy used that opportunity to ram a leg into his side. Vito jerked back with a grunt while his prey slithered out from under him, spitting mad and looking ready for murder.

"Don't touch me again," the kid snarled, all but vibrating with fury. "Don't you ever touch me again!"

" _Oooh_." Vito also stood up, his lips stretching into a small smile that was all ice and jagged edges. "Fighting words," he taunted. "Don't stop, then. Come on, Dipshit, no point in waiting. Show me what you've got."

The new boy's eyes started to glow, a hint of yellow bleeding into their depths. "You asked for it." The air around him thickened. Detecting the change in body temperature, his collar let out a warning _beep._ It was completely ignored.

Vito's smile widened.

Tsuna took another step forward even though it made him sick to his stomach, and said again, "You need to stop."

The metallic band around his own neck felt so heavy – a physical reminder that said, _we're watching you, always_.

"Oh, shut up." Vito glanced at Tsuna – then made a curious double-take. He grinned, lips curling in a mocking line. "Or maybe you want in on the fun too, half-breed? Never took you for the bloodthirsty type before."

 _Half-breed_.

Tsuna flinched at the insult, acutely aware that his eyes were too almond-shaped, that he was too small, and that his accent – despite years and years spent in different cells – remained strange and choppy and unpleasant.

Vito took note of his reaction, eyes glinting with amusement. A shark, detecting blood in the water.

The new boy stood silently on the side, wary and tense, but at least his collar had stopped beeping. That had to count as a win. Tsuna watched Vito from under the hair falling over his eyes. Cold sweat ran down his back in long rivers of horror. He sort of wanted to throw up.

"Stop already," he whispered, shifting from foot to foot. "Leave him alone. Amadeo and Jenoah are going to be angry if you make them come back so soon after they've just left."

That was the wrong thing to say.

Vito's face abruptly twisted, changing into something dark and ugly.

"So what?" he snapped. "You think I'm afraid of them? You think I care?"

He took a step forward, planted both hand on Tsuna's chest and shoved.

" _Don't tell me what to do!"_

Tsuna stumbled back.

Vito laughed.

Clamping down on the urge to cower, to turn tail and run and hide, was almost impossible, but Tsuna did it anyway.

Somehow.

And even though he couldn't _burn_ outside of the searchers' supervision – the collar was coldcoldcold against his skin – that didn't necessarily make him helpless either. He took a deep breath, braced himself, and reached _inside_.

Down and down and down Tsuna went, plummeting to the center of himself like a rock falling into the depths of a pit-less well.

And then he felt it. A gentle caress against his senses. A greeting that seemed to say _hello_ , and _welcome_ , and _it's been a while_.

Warmth. Comfort. Protection.

Tsuna blindly reached for it –

– and the great beast of wild fire slumbering deep inside of him opened one lazy eye.

Tsuna looked up and stared straight at Vito.

The blond flinched.

"I told you," Tsuna said, an echo of Flames underlying his words, " _to stop it."_

Vito's lips pulled back over his teeth. He took a step back, face pale, his eyes two black holes standing out against a chalky white complexion.

There was a moment of absolute stillness.

And then,

"Fine," Vito bit out. "Whatever."

It was – it was a struggle to just stand by and let him leave.

A firestorm had started in Tsuna's veins, and it wanted out.

 _Show him true fire_ , it seemed to whisper in his ears as Vito stomped back toward the back of the cell. _Show him Flames. Do it. You want to. Do it –_

Beep. Beep. Beep.

The high-pitched signal brought Tsuna back to reality faster than a bucket of icy water thrown in his face.

He sat down heavily on the floor, squeezing his eyes shut, focusing on soothing the intense heat back to harmless embers before his collar would knock him out.

It took a full minute, longer than the last time he'd called on his Flames, and even longer than the time before that. It was becoming harder and harder to reel them in, as if each time Tsuna summoned his Flames they rose a little closer to the surface, grew a little stronger, rebelled a little harder.

The storm quieted down. Slowly. Reluctantly. It fell asleep.

Tsuna opened his eyes.

His sight was normal again, he noted with relief. The world had turned back into something that wasn't sharp and full of stark contrasts and blinding colors and –

The new boy was staring.

At him.

" _Ah!_ " Tsuna let out a startled squeak and clambered away.

The boy's expression twisted, caught somewhere between incredulity and _what the hell_. There were red fingermarks already appearing around his neck, and his entire body was shaking. The confrontation with Vito had obviously taken its toll.

Tsuna paused mid-move. He kind of wanted to tell the boy to go to sleep and rest until he stopped looking so exhausted.

The kid glowered. Tsuna fidgeted.

The drawn-out silence was starting to feel really awkward.

"Are you alright?" Tsuna blurted out when he couldn't stand it anymore.

"None of your business," the boy shot back.

Then he swayed to the side, as if the floor had started rolling beneath him like giant waves. Tsuna reached him just before he collapsed and helped him to sit down.

"You don't look alright," Tsuna mumbled. "Maybe you should –"

"Let go." The boy found his bearings and jerked out of Tsuna's hands, a scowl on his face. "What do you want anyway?"

"N-nothing –"

"What? You think that now I owe you one because you told Big-And-Stupid to go away?"

"That's not it!"

But how could Tsuna explain that he'd involved himself because of a whisper in his mind? Because of a flash of orange pushing him forward?

"I don't need your help," the kid continued, spitting the words as if they were venomous. "I don't want it. I could have dealt with that jerk without you. I was _fine_."

"Oh, huh. Okay." Tsuna cringed away, cheeks burning. "Sorry."

The other boy stared at him with dark and accusatory eyes. _Go away_ , the look in them was saying. _Just go_.

Tsuna glanced down and started picking at the frayed hems of his pants.

A strained minute of silence passed.

"So," the boy eventually gritted out. "Aren't you leaving?"

"Hm." Tsuna chose a thread of grey fabric and pulled. "No?"

Leaving meant crossing the whole cell to go back to his usual spot, an action which implied walking right by Vito. Tsuna didn't feel up to another confrontation just yet. He didn't want to have to summon his Flames back to the surface so soon after they'd already been awakened. He wasn't sure he could put the monster back to sleep a second time that day.

On the other hand, the deadly glower focused on the side if his head wasn't exactly reassuring either. It felt hot enough to blister.

Tsuna peeked up through his lashes and grimaced.

The boy was glaring at him, hard. The expression on his face clearly showed how much he was starting to reconsider Tsuna's intelligence.

"No?" he repeated. "I wasn't asking, you know." A shove. "Go. Away."

Tsuna started to get up, his heart thrumming loudly in his ears.

He hesitated.

"I told you to move." The boy pushed him again. "Leave me alone!"

"But." Tsuna blinked. "You're lying."

"What?"

"You don't really want me to leave. And – and you're afraid."

"I'm going to _hurt_ you –"

"No." Tsuna sat down again. "I'm not leaving."

The kid gaped at him.

And before he could snarl another threat, before he could hit him again – Tsuna reached out and put a hand directly over the boy's chest.

He splayed his fingers wide, pressing his palm harder over the wild _thump-thump_ of the boy's heartbeat, feeling the adrenaline and anger coursing there like poison, black and ugly and burning.

"What the hell are you doing?" The boy sputtered, disbelief painted all over his face.

He started to pull away, to reach up toward Tsuna's hand and –

Tsuna _called_.

There was a choked gasp in front of him, but he was no longer paying attention to the outside world.

Tsuna had never sought out someone else's Flames before.

It was like gathering his own. But not.

Warmth immediately rushed toward his palm, eager and lonely. It brushed against his skin, a shy whisper of a touch, a skittish animal timidly peeking out from the dark. It sang of fear and _it hurts_ and _please_ , and Tsuna thought that this right there was the reason why his own Flames had perked up with curiosity in the first place.

He smiled.

"See?" he said, looking up. "You don't really want to be alone."

The kid had gone as still as stone. His eyes were wide, his lips parted open, and he'd sort of stopped breathing.

That reaction … wasn't what Tsuna had been going for.

 _No problem_ , he thought, somewhat hysterical. He could improvise just fine.

Tsuna focused and summoned a single ribbon of his own fire, instinctively making it bright and gentle. It leaped up at his command and flowed from his core down to his arm before pooling into his hand. Tsuna felt the exact moment when his tiny spark touched the boy's Flames. They fluttered away, radiating suspicion and surprise, flickering with something that felt like sunlight.

Tsuna pushed harder still.

A thought and his Flames spread like a warm blanket, playful and curious instead of violent and destructive.

( _It's okay. Don't fight. You're safe_.)

And the yellow fire –

It _melted_.

Tsuna dropped his hand back onto his lap.

"I'm Tsuna," he said. "What's your name?"

A blink, slow and dazed.

The boy shivered.

"Nero... my name's Nero."

.

* * *

.

"Oi, Dumbass."

Tsuna absently glanced toward the door, only to feel as if he'd been electrocuted when he made eye-contact with Amadeo.

The guard was scowling at him from the doorway. Jenoah stood right behind him, waving cheerfully with both hands.

Tsuna gulped.

Going by the impatient glare Amadeo was aiming his way, he quickly deduced that he was the _Dumbass_ being spoken to this time around. His stomach twisted, dread welling up in his throat like vomit.

Tsuna stood up. Took a wobbly step forward.

A hand clamped around his left wrist.

Nero came to stand close behind Tsuna, his face set in a scowl, eyes narrowed into slits of powerless anger.

The two of them had taken to sticking close together during the week that had followed Nero's arrival in this cell. They slept next to each other, ate side by side, and when Vito threw a nasty glance their way he was met with twin looks of stony indifference.

Tsuna kept Nero within arm-reach at all times, and the Flames in his chest wriggled with contentment. There was now someone to hold his hand when he woke up from a nightmare with a scream stuck in his throat. It became natural to soothe Nero's panic attacks after he'd come back from a round of particularly rough tests that left him with shaking limbs and bloodless lips.

Nero didn't talk a lot, didn't like to touch, and it wasn't exactly a bad thing. Tsuna also needed time to get used to the idea that he could lower his guard around someone else, that he wasn't going to get hurt, that it was safe. It reminded him of _Before,_ just a little, like a bunch of fuzzy memories that teased him from afar.

Maybe, just maybe and with a lot of luck, the two of them could learn to be friends.

Nero wasn't going down without a fight, though.

It was as if the other boy's understanding of the world was going through an earth-shattering shift, as if he couldn't quite yet comprehend why people would willingly gravitate around each other without causing pain or fear or anger. He was suspicious and skittish half of the time he was with Tsuna, and the other half was spent looking like he'd been slapped with something wet and slimy.

But he stayed.

Always watching from the corners of his eyes. Never going too far. Constantly revolving around Tsuna like a loose satellite.

In a way, his edginess was funny. Sort of sad, too, but mostly funny.

And now he was clutching Tsuna's wrist like a vice and showing no sign of relinquishing his hold.

"Hurry the hell up!" Amadeo barked from the doorway.

"Oh, give him a second," Jenoah interrupted with a delighted grin. "Look – Tsuna-kun made a friend."

Tsuna tried to tug his arm free.

"Quit it," he whispered frantically.

No answer.

"Nero, _let go_."

Frustration and anger flashed in Nero's blue eyes. His jaw clenched, his nostrils flared, and –

He let go.

"Hurry back," he said, but all Tsuna heard was _pleasepleaseplease_.

His voice stuck in his throat, Tsuna could only give a wordless nod.

He shuffled over to the two guards. The door slammed shut behind him the moment he was out in the hallway. Amadeo lead the way through a maze of corridors and staircases at a brisk pace. He regularly shoved Tsuna forward, muttering under his breath about _a_ _goddamn schedule_ and _fucking shorties_. Jenoah brought up the rear of their little group, a peppy contrast to his moody partner that constantly chattered away without a care in the world.

A left. Then a right.

They walked in front of a dozen doors. Screams and shouts could be heard coming from behind some of them. Others were eerily silent. They kept going.

Another right turn, a flight of stairs leading down – and suddenly, abruptly, Tsuna knew where he was being taken.

His heart rate kicked up into a frantic pounding. Adrenaline flooded his system, hard and fast. He swallowed, missed a step, and almost tripped on thin air.

Amadeo stopped in front of a familiar door.

"Go in," he ordered, unlocking the security system.

The room inside was wide and empty except for a single chair that stood right in its center, solidly secured to the floor with big bolts. Padded restraints dangled from its metallic arms, their leathery surfaces glinting under the harsh glare of a neon-white light.

Tsuna didn't move. His feet stayed rooted to the floor.

"We're on a schedule here." Amadeo gave him a little push. "Move it."

The walk to the chair felt a little surreal, as if Tsuna was somehow disconnected from reality. His body went on autopilot, his hands and feet moving on their own accord in the right positions so that Amadeo could strap him down. Small electrodes were put on his temples, their white wires hanging down his face like two strands of hair.

Jenoah leaned down in front of Tsuna, pursing his lips a little. "All good?" he asked. "Are you okay? Comfortable? Nothing's bothering you?"

Tsuna nodded, mute.

Amadeo grunted from behind them. "Great. Let's get this circus going, then."

They exited the room and Tsuna was left behind.

Silence.

Cold.

 _Fear_.

He kept his eyes fixed straight ahead, staring at the one-way mirror that was reflecting his blank expression back at him. He knew people were already gathered behind it, ready to observe and take notes. There would be no help coming from them. No compassion or pity.

A flare of heat in his gut.

Another whispered warning.

( _Here it comes_.)

Tsuna looked away from the mirror just in time to see a kid stumbling into the room.

He recognized her instantly, the small girl that was behind him in the cell's pecking order, the one that was often too weak to stand on her own.

She looked, if possible, even worse that the last time Tsuna had seen her. Dull brown hair fell over her sunken eyes, and the sharpness of her cheekbones spoke of severe malnutrition, as if she hadn't eaten for days. Her clothes hung limply on her frame, wrinkled and disheveled and far too big for her size.

Tsuna took one look at the girl and knew exactly how it was going to end.

Like all the other times. Like all the other kids.

She stepped forward, swaying, her attention glued to Tsuna.

Another step, unsteady, as if every motion could be the last.

Tsuna watched her slow approach, hoping against hope that she would fall. That she would knock herself out before she could get any closer and this whole thing would be called off.

She didn't.

The girl made it all the way to Tsuna and then collapsed on her knees right in front of him. A desperate expression twisted her features, like urgency and longing all mixed together into ravenous hunger. He could see the thin veins that had popped in the white of her eyes. This, too, was a familiar sight.

"Please," she whimpered, reaching up with shaking hands. "Please…"

Tsuna wanted to beg back, to plead for mercy, to implore the people in white coats behind the mirror to spare him _just this once._

Skinny fingers wrapped around his shoulders. They tightened.

And a hurricane of scarlet Flames exploded in the room.

A raging inferno swept into him, seeking and prodding. It was howling with need, its fire an invading storm that devoured everything it came upon. There was something broken in those Flames, something mad and selfish, and it made Tsuna recoil on an instinctive level.

He shrank away from the intruding fire, retreating deep inside.

The crimson Flames followed, spiraling down in his trail. It called out an angry challenge at being evaded, frustration and determination making it stronger, faster. It wanted, it needed, it _ached_ , and it would keep on pushing forward to find that connection it craved so much.

"No!"

Tsuna's struggles intensified, and the monster in his chest stirred.

It lifted its head, eyes narrowing, and growled a low warning. Orange Flames pulsed once, twice, then flared from the ashes of a dormant volcano.

The red storm fought harder, dug deeper, seeking contact and dominance and acceptance.

Tsuna's Flames _exploded_.

They grabbed the crimson fire by the throat, its fangs ripping and tearing, washing over the trespasser over and over and over again. It grew and spread, becoming a roiling firestorm of outrage and refusal and _leave_.

 _You don't belong here_ , it seemed to say, like a deafening rumble loud enough to tear the sky apart. _You don't belong here because you are not mine._

The girl cried out, half collapsing over Tsuna's lap. Her eyes glazed over as she kept channeling more and more of her Flames into her hands. There would be no reasoning with that kind of starving determination.

And it hurt.

It _really_ hurt.

Tsuna couldn't hold back anymore.

A scream tore out of his throat, loud and clear. Tiny sparks of orange crackled along his arms and torso.

" _Stop!_ "

A wall of fire crashed into the girl.

She went flying, her body snapping through the air like a speck of dust caught in a gust of wind. She slammed into the mirror, the force of the impact creating a web-like pattern of fissures and cracks. A trail of warm liquid was left on the glass as she slid down to the floor.

And even though anger coursed through his veins like acid, _even though he hated them all_ − Tsuna frantically tried to pull back, to soothe the raging beast roaring in his ears, to hold it in.

It didn't work.

His fire poured into the room, a swirling sea of golden orange, fierce and furious and utterly destructive. It grew hotter, stronger, and still it kept coming as if there was no bottom to be found inside of him.

The electrode attached to his temples melted, disintegrating within one heartbeat and the next. The collar around his neck started to heat up, too. It let out a high-pitched whine, and then −

A beep.

A click.

A _puncture_.

A needle suddenly pierced Tsuna's skin right in the hollow of his throat. Ice was flushed in his system, freezing cold where he'd been burning like the sun seconds ago. It spread from his neck down to his shoulders, and all the way into his heart.

The fire around him sputtered out, as if robbed of oxygen. It was extinguished, snuffed like a candle, and then everything was silent again.

Tsuna slumped back against the chair, head lolling to the side, the muscles in his arms and torso spasming and twitching. Darkness grew around him, closing in fast and hard.

The girl's body lied in front of him. She was very still, too still, and it didn't look like she was breathing at all.

Tsuna whimpered.

The door opened. A tall and slender man entered, holding several sheets of paper, his white coat trailing after him.

He was not smiling.

Tsuna opened his mouth. To curse. To cry. To scream.

He lost the fight.

(Darkness.)

.

* * *

.

When he woke up, he was back in the cell.

His head was throbbing, everything in his body ached fiercely, and there was a gaping emptiness in his chest where his Flames used to dance.

Tsuna blinked.

He was lying on the floor with his head cushioned on someone's legs. It was not clear if the sharp bones and pointy joins were actually more comfortable than the floor or not, but the warmth seeping into his frozen frame from the body under him felt nice enough.

Tsuna looked up.

Nero's face was right above him.

The boy's eyes narrowed as soon as he saw that Tsuna was awake.

"Oh," he said. "You woke up."

His tone was mildly accusing, as if Tsuna was being difficult on purpose.

"For a moment there, it didn't look like you would, so I wasn't sure."

 _What?_

Tsuna's eyes rounded with indignation. He was opening his mouth to retort but Nero seemed to decide they were done talking.

He slapped a hand over Tsuna's lips and said, "Shut up and go back to sleep."

Tsuna frowned, hesitated, then thought it was alright, because even though Nero's expression was carefully blank, Tsuna could still feel the boy's Flames brushing against his skin. They shifted around him like an over-enthusiastic puppy that was all relief and clumsy limbs and _you're back_.

That sort of welcome couldn't be hidden under an emotionless mask. Nero was relieved to see him again.

Tsuna snorted.

Nero sent him a murderous glare that dared him to say a single word.

Eyes widening innocently, Tsuna pressed his lips together.

The other boy scoffed. "Idiot."

Tsuna giggled and Nero pretended he couldn't hear him.

Neither of them moved for a long time.

.

* * *

.

So. This happened. I started this fic because I wanted to write fluff about Tsuna and his guardians. Turns out I am going to write dark stuff, too.

We're probably going to spend another couple of chapters with the Estraneo Family (so no more about twin!Na-chan or Nana for a while). The plan is to have Reborn enter the story by chapter 7, though Tsuna will meet one adorable jerk with mismatching eyes before that. We'll see how it goes.

Thanks for reading and see you next chapter,

Rei.


	3. Captive II

Days passed, then weeks and months.

It had been almost a year now since they had met.

Tsuna was –

– happy?

Yes, surely that was the right word to describe the bubbly and warm feeling swelling in his chest each time he looked at Nero.

So.

Tsuna was happy.

For the first time in a long, long while he had a friend. And best of all, that friend loved basking in daylight as much as he did.

Tsuna sighed, tilting his face up to stare at the clouds slowly drifting overhead.

Once a month, kids who'd done exceptionally well during the tests were allowed one hour outside of the cells into a small courtyard. It was a very narrow space of cracked asphalt and gray cement, with tall walls that towered so high above their heads that they could only make out a small square of blue sky. Some of the children pushed themselves hard during the experiments to be allowed out there. Those few minutes of faux-freedom were intoxicating in a way that no drugs would ever be.

The searchers held them all in the palms of their hands and each one of them knew it. An yet they would all keep on dancing to the tune of scalpels and white coats if it meant a small moment of respite. The adults were smart. They had long caught onto the fact that sometimes fear alone wasn't reason enough to push on through another day.

But hope?

Hope kept you going even though it could kill faster than pain.

How clever of the scientists to dangle the promise of the sky in front of boys and girls raised in a cage. Tsuna knew it was a trap. And he ran headlong into it every single time. The feel of the wind in his hair, the kiss of the sun's warmth on his skin – it felt like a taste of something secret, something forbidden, and he savored every second of it while it lasted.

"Move it."

A shoulder slammed into his own from behind, and Tsuna stumbled forward, barely catching himself before he ended up sprawled all over the hard concrete.

Vito glared at him as he entered the courtyard, making a bee-line for the center of the open space where the sun shone its brightest. The blond boy didn't push his advantage further though, not when three guards were positioned all around them with their control bracelets in plain sight.

Tsuna watched as Vito sat down, his pasty white complexion put in sharp contrast as he looked up at the sky. Three other children trickled in after him, two girls and one really small boy who couldn't be older than four. They went to different corners of the courtyard, well away from the others, and silently enjoyed his rewards.

"This idiot," Nero growled. He was glaring at Vito. "He's getting worse and worse lately."

"Don't start a fight."

"No kidding." Nero sniffed. "That would be like letting Big-and-Stupid win."

Tsuna glanced at his friend's grumpy expression. "You're doing it again," he said. "The sulky face."

Nero shot him a deeply offended look. "I don't sulk."

"Huh."

"I _don't,_ " Nero insisted, scowling. "And stop laughing!"

Tsuna bit his lips, cheeks puffing out in an effort to hold the laughter in.

Nero stared at him for a moment, his whole being radiating wounded dignity. Then he huffed, rolled his eyes, and suddenly smacked Tsuna's face with both of his hands.

Air rushed out from between Tsuna's puckered lips, resulting in a very wet, very loud raspberry.

He let out a squawk of protest, cradling his stinging cheeks. "It hurts!"

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Nero snickered. "Come on."

He grabbed Tsuna's hand and dragged him further into the courtyard, aiming for a still unoccupied space that was bathed in sunlight. Stopping there, he bodily maneuvered Tsuna down onto the fractured concrete. The hard surface wasn't exactly comfortable but that was nothing new to either of them. Tsuna lied there without a complain, his arms and legs sprawled out like a starfish, and leveled an expectant look at Nero.

"Good enough?" he asked.

"I guess so."

Nero made himself home on Tsuna's stomach, using his belly as a cushion while he wriggled around to find a comfortable position.

"I don't sulk, you know."

"Hn?"

"I really don't."

"Hm."

"Shut _up_." An irritated growl. "I'm just setting the record straight, that's all."

Tsuna hummed a little and closed his eyes.

He shifted slightly, trying to absorb as much daylight as he could. His Flames almost purred with pleasure as they rolled in the warm weather, lazily uncoiling from his core and stretching out, like something big that had gone boneless and lazy.

"Are you asleep?"

"No," Nero said, his voice soft and dreamy like it never was when they were inside. "You're thinking too loud."

Tsuna blinked. "How can I think too loud?"

"By wiggling and squirming around like a worm."

"I'm not a – "

A finger poking his ribs.

Once. Twice.

Nero grumbled. "You sure move like one. Stop it. I want to try to get some sleep before they take us back."

Tsuna obligingly went still.

He knew all too well how long it had been since Nero had gotten more than a handful of hours of rest. Tsuna gently ran his fingers through dirty blond hair, not minding that it was dry and brittle. Nero immediately went boneless against him. There had been a time not that long ago when physical contact between the two of them would have been impossible, when any attempted touch would have been met with a glare and a snarl. But not today. Not anymore.

The reason why Tsuna loved the dilapidated courtyard so much wasn't only because he got to feel the wind on his skin and watch clouds dancing across a sea of blue – it was also because it was the place where he'd become friends with Nero.

 _("I've got a mother and a brother. But I don't know their names anymore. I can't even remember their faces."_

" _I want to leave this place. I want to go outside and never come back. Before they kill us._ ")

The sky was clear and bright above them. Even though they were only allowed to see such a small piece of it, its vivid color was almost blinding. Something about its sheer size reminded Tsuna of the story of a frog, an ocean, and the bottom of a well. He couldn't remember it all, but the vague memories brought back whispers of a woman's voice to his mind. They teased him, forever out of reach, like a playful breeze that could be felt but never touched.

Tsuna closed his eyes and asked, "What about now? Are you asleep yet?"

A sleepy mumble.

Tsuna grinned.

.

* * *

 _._

 _Slash_.

A blur of silver. A scalpel cutting through skin and nerves and flesh.

Blood.

Tsuna screamed around his gag, struggling against his bounds.

"Seems like a failure." A man sighed from somewhere on his right.

"Healing rate's not up to par with what was anticipated." A second voice, this time coming from the left. "See how the skin's not knitting back together?"

"Kid's not a Sun, but this is disappointing."

"He wasn't given any painkillers, right?"

"No. We need him clean for this."

"Let's try again."

 _Slash_.

Scream.

More blood.

So warm and thick as it traveled down his torso.

"Keep going. His Flames are going to kick in at some point."

 _Slash_.

Scream.

Blood.

He felt himself drifting away after that, in some place dark and cold and empty.

And then a hand slapped him.

 _Hard_.

Lights danced in front of his eyes. The examination table he was strapped to was cold and hard under his bare back. He shivered.

"Do you hear me, kid? I want you to call on your Flames. It should help with the pain, so try to channel them where it hurts."

His … Flames?

Tsuna blinked, trying to focus.

It would be easy, he distantly acknowledged. To just … let go.

But Tsuna couldn't.

He _wouldn't_.

Because the Flames they were talking about were a roaring tempest of defensive rage and fury that was about to erupt in a deadly firestorm. And they felt strong enough − _angry_ enough − to burn down the world to ashes and still grow hotter, wilder, until there was nothing left of this planet but the charred shell of a broken star.

They wanted him to let _that_ out?

( _Yes_.)

No.

He wasn't sure he could survive that sort of fire – that sort of hate.

"Let's try again."

 _Slash_.

Scream.

Blood.

.

* * *

.

Vito planted his hands on Tsuna's chest and _pushed._

Tsuna crashed to the floor with all the elegance of a collapsing mammoth. The impact caused his mouth to slam shut, his teeth clicking together with a _snap_. Pain flared. For one frantic moment, he wondered if he hadn't just bitten his tongue off – but no, it was right there, moving and unscathed.

"Tsuna!"

Nero rushed to his side.

"Are you okay? Are you hurt? Are you in pain?"

Feeling a little woozy, Tsuna assured his friend that he was fine – no, no he wasn't hurt, not at all, why was Nero even worried – and tried to wrap up the whole thing with a pretty smile.

It worked as well as could be expected.

Nero's expression twitched, lips and brows slowly shifting into a fierce scowl.

"Okay," he said in a very, very calm voice that Tsuna didn't trust for a single second. He stood up and repeated, "Okay." Then, "This is fucking _war_."

Vito laughed. "I'm so scared."

Nero's eyes narrowed. They started to glow with a harsh light, white-hot and unforgiving.

And then the two boys were rolling on the floor, exchanging blow for blow, hit for hit. Each strike was mean and nasty, aimed at vulnerable body parts that caused cries of pain.

"Stop," Tsuna called from the sideline, his words coming out muffled because he was still holding a hand over his mouth.

He really hoped his teeth weren't going to fall off later.

The brawling pair completely ignored him.

Vito twisted his upper body, lifted one arm and rammed his elbow into Nero's nose. The smaller blond yelped, jerking back, then let out an outraged growl. His fingers transformed into talons that went straight for Vito's eyes, who only avoided permanent disfigurement by burying his teeth into Nero's wrist.

" _Ow!_ "

Cue more rolling around and trashing limbs.

Tsuna anxiously glanced at the door, wondering if the ruckus was loud enough to attract Amadeo or Jenoah's attention.

The door remained locked.

So far, so good.

"Hey!" He carefully approached the scuffle. "It's stupid. Stop fighting. Please?"

A yelp of pain followed by a curse.

That would be a resounding _shut up, we're busy_ , then.

An arm went flying by Tsuna's face and, seeing an opportunity, he grabbed the limb and held on tight. He pulled and yanked, trying to separate his friend from the older boy, but the two of them were having none of it. They kept yowling and snarling like a pair of wild animals, all claws and fangs and bristling furs.

And then there was a leg, slamming hard into his knees.

Tsuna felt himself tilting over for the second time that day. He went down with a squeal and landed right in the thick of the melee.

Time sort of blurred after that.

At some point, he stopped trying to separate Nero and Vito and merely attempted to crawl away, feeling sore and bruised and quite done with life in general.

Vito grabbed Tsuna's ankle and dragged him right back into the fight. Tsuna let out a squeak of protest as he slid backward, fingers digging uselessly at the floor.

Nero – in a misguided attempt at rescuing Tsuna – made something of a cross between a belly-flop and a tackle. He slammed into Vito's back with a grunt. It effectively took the blond down, but Tsuna didn't feel particularly impressed because he abruptly found himself at the bottom of a writhing dog-pile. He almost lost an eye to a flailing hand, and a foot rammed into his side with enough strength that his ribs _cracked_.

"'s that all you've got, you fucking Dipshit?"

"I'm just getting started!"

"Eat that –"

"Hey, no biting! _No biting!"_

Tsuna didn't know how he did it, but somehow, someway, he managed to survive the next several minutes and then the storm had blown over and they were all lying side by side, panting and coughing and hurting all over.

His head was throbbing. There were tiny spots of light dancing across his vision. Breathing was exhausting.

"This," Vito gasped out from somewhere on Tsuna's right, "this doesn't mean I've lost."

"Shut up," Nero wheezed, sounding one second away from passing out. "Tsuna, are you okay?"

Tsuna let out a strangled sound.

Vito snorted. "Crybaby," he mocked. Tsuna could just _feel_ the sneer in his voice. "You hear that, Dipshit? Your half-breed's a fucking crybaby."

Half-breed – the word that had started it all.

"What did you say, asshole?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. Did I hurt your feelings?

There was a dull _smack_ , followed by a curse, and then they were going at it again.

Tsuna scrambled away, clumsily back-pedaling even as the two blonds picked up the fight where they'd left it.

Unbelievable. Those two were unbelievable.

How could they even move?

Vito noticed Tsuna's retreating form, ducked under a flying fist, and scowled. "Oh no, you don't."

He lunged, hands extended toward Tsuna, but was intercepted – " _not even in your dreams!_ " – by a kick to the stomach before he could reach him.

Tsuna cringed. "Stop it already. That's enough."

They ignored him.

Again.

The fight started to escalate, growing in intensity and volume.

Tsuna wondered how it was that Nero could disregard Vito's insults when they were aimed at him, but could never overlook them when Tsuna was involved. They would need to work on that overprotective streak of Nero. Soon. Before it got them both into troubles.

Well.

More troubles, anyway.

The other kids in the cell watched the three of them from afar, quiet and wary, and their silence made the sound of hits and blows even louder. It wouldn't be surprising if by now someone had noticed that three heartbeats had skyrocketed in the cell.

A searcher would push a button anytime now, Tsuna thought hysterically. The knock-out drug would be delivered directly from their collars into their systems and they would wake up strapped to an examination table.

"I'll fucking kill you!"

"Try it, I dare you!"

This was stopping.

This was stopping _right now_.

Tsuna's Flames stretched out, awakening with a loud rumble. His hands flashed out, snatching each boy by the back of their necks. He gave a little shake.

"I said," he gritted out, Flames flaring in his voice, "That's. _Enough_."

Vito and Nero froze, both going completely still.

Tsuna's fire flowed out, not a lot – _careful, careful, don't burn too hot_ – but just enough to brush against strands of yellow sunlight and green lightning. It snapped sharp fangs in warning, once, twice, then cuffed the two misbehaving Flames like naughty children who'd crossed one line too many.

The boys winced.

Tsuna remained unimpressed. "Can I let you go?" he asked. "Or are you going to freak out again?"

Mumbles and mutters all around.

Nero's expression was suspiciously mulish. Next to him, Vito had gone white.

Tsuna waited.

A beat of silence.

Then,

"Yeah, fine." Nero growled, shrugging off Tsuna's hold. "Dammit. You're no fun."

Tsuna mouthed _no fun_ , dropping back his hands onto his lap. "No fun? The two of you almost crushed me to death!"

"Big baby."

"I am _not_ –"

"Hey," Vito cut in.

Nero's heads snapped toward him. " _What?_ " he bit out.

"You're both stupid and I hate you," Vito replied flatly. Then he turned to Tsuna, pointing an accusing finger. "And you're a fucking freak, half-breed! Don't you do that to me ever again, you get it?"

Nero bristled.

Vito showed his teeth.

And Tsuna buried his face in his hands with a groan.

.

* * *

.

The flat screen formed a half circle, glowing like an artificial apparition.

Shapes danced all over its smooth surface without logic or discernable patterns, bouncing right and left and up and down.

( _Bottom. Up. Up again. Left. Right_.)

Tsuna had to be one step ahead of them, to anticipate their courses from the merest twitch, to be able to guess their paths before they even changed direction. His fingers flashed over the screen, his time response growing faster and faster as the speed of the shapes progressively increased.

( _Left. Left. Down. Right corner_ −)

Too slow.

The screen flashed red.

The pair of electrodes glued to his forehead buzzed. It felt like two needles stabbing straight into his brain.

Tsuna cried out, hands flying to his head.

"We're starting again."

A male voice echoed in the room from the speakers fixed on the walls. It was flat and monotonous.

"Get ready."

Tsuna blinked furiously, knowing as always that searchers were watching him from behind the one-way mirror behind him.

The screen flashed blue.

He lasted three minutes this time before it turned red again.

Another electric shock.

Warmth rose from the depths of Tsuna's soul, and he desperately gave himself to it. His hands started to move on their own, animated not by conscious thoughts but by the rush of heat burning under his skin.

( _Up. Left. Top hand corner. Down. Down_.)

A third flash of red.

 _Pain_.

"Again."

.

* * *

.

The first time Tsuna had realized his friend could put a bunch of letters together and extricate meaning out of them, he'd felt as if an entire new world had opened up to him.

Reading was such an alien concept, something that belonged to _Before_ , and it was almost wrong to discover that Nero could do it – well. Maybe reading as such was a little bit of a stretch. The blond boy could recognize some letters and lump them together to form a couple of familiar words, which was still very far from literacy.

But still.

He could write his name.

Nero knew how to write his own name, and that seemed so wonderful in Tsuna's eyes that he simply had to learn, too.

He started to hound Nero, harassing him days and nights to be taught, to be shown, and from there on it was only a matter of time and determination before Nero finally caved in and reluctantly accepted the role of teacher, if only to get _some fucking sleep, dammit Tsuna_.

"What," Nero said blandly two days later, "is this?"

Tsuna thought it was rather obvious.

"Your name," he answered, chest puffing up with pride.

"Huh." Nero stared at the strange pattern Tsuna had carefully created out of several threads he'd pulled from the hems of his pants. "That's not my name."

Tsuna frowned, looking down at his masterpiece. It was rather well-made, if he did say so himself, with the dark threads standing out in stark contract against the gray of the floor to form a pretty design.

"But look," he said, pointing with a finger. "I made that double wavy thingie for the 'n' just like you showed me, and the 'e' isn't upside down, and the 'r' is –"

"All I'm seeing," Nero cut in flatly, "is a monster with four legs and three arms."

"What? No!" Tsuna gaped. " _No_. That's the shapes you showed me earlier and – and _three arms_? That's just mean!"

"You're the one drawing squiggles all over the place."

"I'm writing! There's no squiggles anywhere!"

Nero huffed. "There are if I say so," he said. "And idiots who let themselves starve to death don't get a say in this conversation anyway."

Tsuna immediately blushed so hard he felt on fire. "That was only one time –"

"Once was enough, stupid."

"I hate you."

"Liar." A smug look. "You don't. Now start again."

"... I don't want to."

"Sure. Then I won't teach you anymore."

Tsuna let out a little growl, then attacked the threads again.

He was going to get this right even _if it killed him_.

.

* * *

.

The boy who had just been strapped to an exam table started to convulse. And _scream_.

His voice rose above the searchers' chatter, hoarse and gut-wrenching. It cut off seconds later. Someone had pulled a gag over the boy's mouth, and all that pain was reduced to a muffled cry.

Tsuna stood between Nero and a red-headed girl from their cell, watching the scene in tense silence.

Only half of his attention was on the boy's torment. A great part of his mind was busy noting and cataloging the looks aimed his way by every adult in the room.

Lingering glances.

Quick peeks thrown between bits of conversation.

On his right, Jenoah was smiling widely, appearing unusually peppy even by his standards, and Amadeo himself seemed to be keeping an eye on the proceedings.

Tsuna fought really hard to staunch the flood of panic rising in his chest.

Something was wrong.

Something was _very_ wrong.

The three searchers muttering around the boy's seizing body seemed to lost interest. They scattered. Two went to grab an IV bags while the third one turned around as she frowned down at the tablet in her hands. She was a tall woman, with short blond hair and a pair of square glasses. A sense of sharp impatience surrounded her, as if she couldn't help but be annoyed that the world wouldn't hurry the hell up and match her personal pace.

She looked up.

And stared straight at Tsuna.

Her eyes narrowed, then slid over to Nero. She took in the way they stood close to each other, how Nero had taken a shuffling step to the left that put him a little in front of Tsuna.

The woman smiled.

Tsuna shrank into himself.

He tried to tug Nero back next to him but his friend refused to budge. He stood his grounds stubbornly, gripping Tsuna's hand in a white-knuckled hold.

Tsuna gritted his teeth but chose to bid his time. The last thing he wanted was to attract even more attention to them by starting an argument.

He would let Nero have it later, though.

There would be _words_.

Tsuna took a deep breath and tried to calm his racing pulse.

It was the first time the two of them had been brought out of the cell together, and Tsuna had quickly found out that Nero's mere presence with him during an experiment made everything a thousand times worse.

Oh, the fear of _hurting_ was still very much the same. That sickening anticipation of the pain to come had his knees quivering and bile rising in his throat like usual. But it was nothing – absolutely _nothing_ – compared to the horrifying realization that he would have to watch Nero be used and hurt and that he was powerless to stop it.

Tsuna swallowed hard.

He was going to throw up.

From somewhere on their right, Jenoah let out a soft cooing sound. "Oooh," the guard crooned. "Look at you two, holding hands and all. You're just adorable."

He sauntered over to give their shoulders a friendly pat.

"Don't break, okay?" Jenoah leaned forward and whispered right into Tsuna's ear. "That wouldn't be fun."

Tsuna blinked.

 _What –_

"Next," the tall female searcher called.

Jenoah walked around Tsuna and Nero with a spring in his steps and a song on his breath. He grabbed the only other remaining kid from their cell – the red-headed girl – and pushed her forward.

She stumbled, her face deathly pale, the line of her mouth trembling.

But she didn't beg.

She knew better than that.

They all did.

The same scene repeated itself for a second time as she was made to lie down on a table. Restraints were snapped closed around her wrists and ankles, and an IV stand with a bag full of transparent liquid was brought over. The female searcher put her on a drip, and an infusing pump started to beep and click as it monitored the drugs being flushed in her system.

The girl started to shriek a minute later.

Tsuna's heartbeat picked up.

The group of three searchers went off on a low conversation. The poked, they prodded, they observed, and through it all Tsuna couldn't help but notice how uninvolved they seemed with the whole thing. As if the girl – and the boy before her – weren't all that important, as if there was something _else_ they were waiting for.

Sideway glances again in his and Nero's direction.

Ones that were assessing. Weighting. Judging.

The girl screeched again. High and raw, and it felt like her voice would break and shatter like glass.

They put a gag on her after that.

"Next," the woman said again.

Jenoah trotted back to them and Tsuna trembled with the need to run.

To grab Nero and hide him away. To yell, _no. No, don't come closer_.

Jenoah reached out for Nero – Nero, who just stood there, stupidly not moving an inch from his position in front of Tsuna, chin jutting out defiantly even though his shoulders were shaking and his face had gone white.

Everything went silent around Tsuna.

He couldn't hear anything, couldn't move, couldn't breathe.

Jenoah's hand closed around Nero's arm. Gave a tug.

"Let's go."

A switch was flipped inside, and the world rushed back to normal with a tearing sound. Tsuna jerked forward, reason drowned under the roar of outraged _mine_ that came from his Flames. His muscles coiled tight, even as the monster burning in his chest rose swiftly and lethally to the surface. He would make them pay, he would _kill them all_ –

Except.

"Not him," the female searcher said before Tsuna could attack. "The other one."

Tsuna stilled.

The firestorm brewing in his veins ground to a halt.

 _Oh,_ he thought numbly. _I guess that works, too._

Jenoah pulled him from behind Nero, and Tsuna didn't fight. He'd been so focused on his friend, on how he could protect him that he had sort of forgotten he wouldn't be spared either.

Jenoah dragged him along.

"Come on, Tsuna-kun," he said cheerfully. "It's your turn now."

The walk toward the three searchers felt simultaneously very short and very long. Jenoah lifted Tsuna onto a free table, and the female searcher immediately got busy with a needle. Someone else tied a tourniquet around his arm, tight enough to control his blood flow.

And then someone screamed.

Loud and childish and utterly furious.

"Don't touch him!"

Nero's voice pierced the mist that had descended over Tsuna's mind and yanked him right back to the present.

He startled, eyes snapping to the commotion raging beyond the row of examination tables.

Nero was twisting and kicking as he struggled in Amadeo's hands.

"Don't _fucking_ touch him!"

Tsuna automatically tried to go to Nero, only to realize that his hands and ankles were already cuffed to the metal bars around the table.

"Wait," he blurted out, tugging at the restraints. "Wait."

The woman didn't even glance at him.

She cleaned a spot of skin on Tsuna's inner elbow, then inserted the needle in one of the veins bulging there. The tourniquet came off.

Something that was both ice and fire started to trickle in Tsuna's arm.

It wasn't a pleasant sensation.

( _It burned_.)

Tsuna gasped and squeezed his eyes shut.

Nero _howled_.

The blond boy fought harder, and half wrenched himself out of Amadeo's hold. His flailing feet caught the leg of a nearby table and sent it flying. Medical material spilled on the floor with a loud racket.

Amadeo let out a curse. "Stop fighting, you little shithead."

Nero slithered free and lunged toward Tsuna – only to be plucked clean off the floor by two deceptively strong hands.

"That's enough," Jenoah tutted. "Take a deep breath and relax. You're making a scene."

Spitting mad, Nero clawed at the forearm holding him. " _Fuck. You_."

The two guards wrestled him to the floor. Amadeo twisted Nero's arms behind his back while Jenoah basically sat down on his legs.

And that… shouldn't have been necessary.

Two grown men weren't supposed to have any difficulty to subdue and hold down one malnourished kid. His struggles shouldn't have caused them so much trouble, shouldn't have been strong enough to escape Amadeo in the first place.

Nero looked up, and his eyes glowed white-hot. Flames – immature and not fully manifested, but still very thick – seethed in the air all around him.

"I'll kill you," he snarled. " _I'll kill you._ "

Around the exam table, the searchers watched him with delighted expressions. The woman, especially, looked very pleased.

Tsuna instantly knew that this sort of interest was dangerous. That they didn't want it, ever.

"Nero!" he called. "Calm down!"

But his friend didn't stop, didn't even seem to hear his voice.

Tsuna focused inward and reached out for the little spark of sunlight that had ignited in the middle of his own Flames. He found it immediately, crackling and flaring in distress, radiating so much impotent rage that it'd become deaf and blind to the world.

Tsuna's fire wrapped around Nero's Flames and _squeezed_.

( _Hear me. See me_.)

On the floor, Nero let out a choked gasp.

Tsuna wrapped his Flames tighter around the tiny Sun.

 _It's alright,_ he told him, the lie feeling like razor-blades cutting his insides open as he sent it out. _We'll be alright._

Nero twisted a little so that he could stare at Tsuna. He didn't blink, didn't move, didn't even seem to be breathing.

The woman by the IV stand let out a little laugh.

"Well." She smiled, an edge of deep satisfaction purring in her voice. "Don't you two make an interesting pair?"

.

* * *

.

Tsuna cracked an eye open.

He was lying on his stomach on a cold floor, and it took a moment to realize he was back in the cell.

Tsuna shifted onto his side, moving gingerly. He felt tired and groggy and sort of dazed but…

 _(Nero_.)

Tsuna sat up. He didn't immediately keel over. Alright. That was a good sign. An excellent one, really.

Nero was right there beside him, knees drawn up to his chest and arms wrapped around his legs. Other than a slight tremor in his hands, he appeared to be relatively fine. No missing limbs or new scars. No bandages or blood stains.

Tsuna brushed the tips of his fingers against Nero's wrist.

"Nero?" he whispered.

"I'm fine," the boy answered flatly.

Considering that _fine_ was Nero's code for I'm-about-to-crash-and-break-and-burn, Tsuna wasn't feeling particularly reassured. Orange Flames sluggishly licked up at his insides, weak and exhausted. They still managed to convey a message, their voice faint and far away.

( _Silence-and-patience._ )

Tsuna flopped back onto the floor. He stared at the ceiling.

The wait until his friend started to talk wasn't very long.

"I hate them," Nero said, hands curling into fists. "I hate them _so much_."

There was poison in those words. A dark, putrid poison that hovered like acid between them.

"They hurt you," Nero continued, glowering at his knees, "and I'll never forgive them. I'll make them pay. All of them."

Tsuna nodded slowly. "Okay."

" _Okay_?" Nero rounded on him, teeth bared. "You don't understand at all, do you? I'm saying that I'm going to kill people, Tsuna. On purpose. Lots of people. I'll make them beg and cry and hurt – and then I'll _kill_ them."

He stared at Tsuna with a clenched jaw, almost challenging, as if daring Tsuna to flinch away from him and leave.

"Okay," Tsuna said again.

And he didn't move a single inch.

Tension ratcheted up in the air.

And broke.

Nero's shoulders dropped. His expression twisted, like a crack running up the surface of a porcelain mask.

"I'll kill them," he said again, softer this time, like the whisper of a terrible secret. "Because they're turning me into a monster."

 _A monster._

Unbidden and crystal clear, the image of a blazing fire and scorched bodies flashed in Tsuna's mind. Flames like amber that came from a bloodthirsty beast lurking in his very soul.

"I think they're turning all of us into monsters," Tsuna said softly.

Two small hands closed around his upper arms and yanked him up.

"Not you," Nero hissed, shoving his face so close their noses almost touched. "Never you. They can't."

 _Too late_ , Tsuna didn't say, but it seemed like his friend heard him anyway.

Nero's face became a shade paler. He let out a choked sound, like a small, injured animal that had been driven in a corner.

Tsuna let his forehead drop on Nero's shoulder. The other boy immediately wrapped his arms around him.

"Don't worry," Tsuna mumbled. "I'm not afraid of you."

Nero shivered. "You better not."

Around them, the cell's oppressive silence was only disturbed by the sound of children's regular breathing as they slept. No one moved. No one talked. Everything was still, as if frozen in time.

Tsuna hesitated, but this was as much privacy as either of them would ever get.

"Let's make a promise," he said quickly, before he could reconsider and realize he was just a coward drowning in a nightmare.

Nero tilted his head to the side, showing he was listening.

"Let's run away." Tsuna's throat was so tight it hurt to speak. "Together."

The mere idea of escaping, of living _Outside_ – it was terrifying. Tsuna thought he had never wanted anything more in his life.

Nero didn't blink, didn't even hesitate.

"Yes," he said without missing a beat. "I don't want to die in this hell hole, you know."

Tsuna let out a hysterical giggle.

Nero cracked a smile.

They stayed like that for a moment longer, huddled together around a promise that felt as fragile as glass.

"Together," Nero repeated quietly.

"Together," Tsuna confirmed.

And the word fell from his lips like a pledge. Like a vow.

(Like a lie.)

.

* * *

.

Jenoah came for Nero two days later.

.

* * *

.

The woman secured the padded restraints around his wrists and ankles.

Somehow, Tsuna couldn't find it in himself to care.

There was an invisible pressure bearing down on his chest, a sort of hammering anxiety that hadn't let up for an entire week.

Because Nero hadn't come back.

Tsuna took a deep breath, trying to hold off the tidal wave of worry that threatened to swallow him whole. His Flames roiled and snapped inside him, agitated like a restless beast pacing the length of its cage.

Back and forth and back and forth.

 _Wrong_ , the fire growled. _Something is wrongwrongwrong_.

That had never happened before.

Children were collected for their tests and they were always, _always_ , returned to the cell afterward. The searchers never kept them away for as long as Nero had been gone, not unless a replacement was put in their group to round up their number.

But there had been no newcomer to take Nero's place, and Tsuna clung to that knowledge with every fiber of his being. Two other kids were also missing, the ones who'd been there during that first and last test Tsuna and Nero had gone through together.

And that _had_ to mean something.

Nero would come back.

Definitely.

The alternative was unthinkable.

"Alright," the woman beside him said, standing up. "That'll do."

She quickly fixed two electrodes pads on Tsuna's temples, chest, and upper arms, then attached medical wires to them. They hung down his body like white snakes that monitored everything going under his skin. He idly wondered if they could read the hate that churned in him, if anger had a color on their monitors, and if it was as red as blood.

The woman turned his head right and left, observing her work, then gave a satisfied nod. "We're all set here," she called out.

There was a faint buzzing as the door behind them clicked open. The woman walked out and Tsuna was left alone, staring into empty space, his heart attempting to pound a hole through his ribcage.

It was a girl that came in this time.

The red-haired one that had disappeared along with Nero.

Tsuna lurched forward, questions spilling past his lips before he could stop them.

"Where were you? What happened? What did they do? Have you seen Nero?"

No answer.

She just stood there, and Tsuna wanted to grab her shoulders and _shake_ , as if the information he was after could be rattled loose if he tried hard enough.

The girl took an unsteady in his direction.

She was barely a couple of years older than him, and maybe in another place, another time, people would have called her pretty. Now though, she was just a skinny shadow made of emaciated features and sickly pale skin. Her eyes were wide and slightly dazed, with a look in them that spoke of drugs and pain.

Tsuna didn't know what the searchers did to all those people before they were sent to him, but it always twisted them beyond help, beyond saving. He didn't understand either why they kept doing it since it never worked anyway. A small part of him – the one that just wanted it all to stop – gave an uncaring shrug.

The girl shuffled forward – and a figure appeared behind her.

Nero stumbled into the room.

And the entire world just –

– stopped.

No.

( _No_.)

Tsuna stared.

He stared and stared and stared some more, unable to comprehend what he was seeing because there was no way that his friend was standing in front of him. Nero shouldn't be there, _couldn't_ be there, not in the white room of death where Tsuna was a _killer_.

"Tsuna?"

But this was no illusion.

Nero had just stepped into Tsuna's personal hell on shaky legs and he had no idea about what was going to happen to him.

To all of them.

Nero blinked, slowly, eyes dull and lifeless.

"Oh," he said. "You're really bright, Tsuna. And warm. Wow."

Adrenalin flooded Tsuna's system.

He started babbling, a rush of garbled words that barely made any sense. "No, no, no. You can't be here. You _can't_. They can't make you – they can't make _me_ – please. Please, not you. _Not you_."

Nero shuffled closer still. A helpless moth drawn to the flame.

Tsuna reared back.

"Don't come closer! Just go away – _go away!_ "

One more step. Then another one. And a third and a fourth.

A touch suddenly whispered along Tsuna's arm and he almost jumped out of his skin. He looked up, startled, and found himself staring into large brown eyes. H'd been so focused on Nero's presence that he'd forgotten they weren't alone.

"Pretty," the girl hummed. "So pretty and bright …" Her hands fluttered up and gently cupped Tsuna's face. "Mine. So, so pretty. _All mine_."

A bolt of lightning tore into Tsuna.

His back arched, arms and legs jerking against his restraints. He tried to move away, to escape the bony fingers digging into his cheeks. Horror clawed at his insides, worse than the foreign Flames, and he choked on it, drowned in it.

There was a scream in his head, something about _can't lose control,_ and _can't let go,_ and _can't-can't-can't._

The green lightning came again, harder this time, reaching down like a greedy hand burying sharp talons directly in Tsuna's flesh.

He started to shake. The world wavered around him, fuzzy and white. Nero was a dark shape somewhere in that blurry background.

Close enough to touch.

Close enough to _hurt_.

"Please," Tsuna said, aiming the words at his friend even though his head had lolled back and he was looking at the ceiling. "I don't want to hurt you, Nero. Don't make me hurt you."

Nero didn't listen.

They never did.

Cool fingers wrapped around his hands and sunlight burst out behind Tsuna's eyelids.

His felt his Flames recoil, startled to find that one of the intruders was familiar, someone precious and fragile that was meant to be protected. The instincts to attack and rip and rend warred with the need to shelter and defend, and for one crystal-clear second, Tsuna felt himself balancing on the edge of a blade. He coaxed his Flames, wrapping chains and fetters and shackles even as they lied down with a rumble of acceptance _._

Tsuna let out a slow, careful breath. He blinked. Above him, the ceiling was coming back into focus.

He could do this. He could hold back. He could –

The girl launched her green lightening again.

She fought, wrenching her way toward his Flames like a thunderbolt that slammed into Tsuna again and again.

It hurt.

A lot.

Tsuna felt his control slip.

Just a little.

Another flash of lightning, followed by sunlight that trickled in its wake like warm honey.

The monster inside Tsuna buckled.

It let out a warning growl, low and furious and _you dare_. The chains restraining it started to break one after another, a series of _snapsnapsnap_ that spread in Tsuna's mind like ripples over the surface of a lake. Each little undulation grew stronger and stronger, swelling like the tide until they were great waves that crashed onto the frayed edge of his control.

Green thunder again, this time reaching far enough to brush against the orange of his Flames.

A shift deed inside. A foreign pulse overlapping with his own.

The beginning of a connection. A bond starting to form.

 _(No!)_

And Tsuna failed.

His Flames erupted upward with a roar and tore into the green lightning. And then it kept coming, surging from a bottomless abyss, a roaring monster of orange firestorm that hated the world hard enough to want its destruction.

Nero slammed down to his knees.

Even though he wasn't the target – even though he wasn't the _invader_ – he still let out a choked gasp as Tsuna's fire poured into the room. Blood trickled down Nero's nose and ears.

He released the hold he had on Tsuna and blinked.

His eyes seemed to clear, to sharpen.

"… Tsuna?"

The girl let out sound of pain as the skin on her arm burned.

But she didn't let go.

She did _not_ let go.

The orange fire snarled at the challenge. A ring of Flames burst out from Tsuna in a wide circle and punched out, fierce and infuriated and _leave_. Its attack completely by-passed Nero, not even touching him, but the girl was another story.

She slammed into the wall, pushed away from Tsuna by a wall of orange Flames that snapped menacingly at her.

Panting, she glared and thrust her hands forward. Green Flames flared to life all around her, loud and bright and crackling with electricity.

"Mine," she said, and her Flames rushed toward Tsuna like a whip.

His own fire gathered tightly around him, preparing its defense.

And Nero jumped.

In front. Of Tsuna.

He threw his arms wide open and yelled, " _No!_ "

There was a bright flash of pure yellow in the room, blinding but _not_ _strong enough_.

Tsuna screamed even as his own Flames rushed forward.

The world rocked with a loud explosion. The walls shook and dust fell from the ceiling as smoke spread like a thick blanket of smothering death.

And then there was silence.

A loud, ringing silence.

The last of Tsuna's Flames receded and disappeared into thin air. It sank back under his skin hurriedly, sweeping an urgent look over Tsuna's soul in search of the little sun that had been sheltering in its heat for so long now.

It was gone.

There was no sunlight to be found. No fragile rays of sunshine that glowed warm and protective in the dark.

Only a vast emptiness heavy with absence.

Because suddenly it was just Tsuna, all alone in his head, as if he were the only person alive in the universe.

Tsuna stared.

The previously pristine appearance of the room was no more. Cracks and fissures scarred its smooth surfaces where they'd been touched by Flames hot enough to disintegrate concrete. There was only a small space that retained its pearly white, located right under the chair Tsuna was tied to, as if he were sitting at the epicenter of an earthquake.

Two bodies faced him.

The one under the one-way mirror was obviously the red-headed girl's – and maybe it made Tsuna a little bit heartless, even a little bit inhuman, but he didn't spare her a second glance, didn't give her a single thought. He could only stare at the other unrecognizable body, bile rising in his throat even as his mouth turned dry.

Nothing was left of Nero but a mess of seared flesh and black ash drifting on the floor.

And there was a smell in the air, something heavy and disgusting and all too familiar.

Tsuna threw his head over his arm and vomited.

Tears ran down his face, dripping from his nose and lips. He coughed, choking and wheezing as his lungs rebelled against the very idea of pulling air in.

Nero was looking at him with unseeing eyes.

 _Dead_.

And abruptly Tsuna found that he could breathe after all, because he started screaming and screaming, and it felt like he'd never stop.

The collar around his neck let out a sharp _beep_ , and cold rushed in his veins, promising darkness. Peace. Just for a little while.

But Tsuna didn't want it. He didn't _fucking_ want it.

Something was missing inside. His Sun was gone and he was empty and so, _so_ alone he might break.

 _Whywhywhywhy_ –

He was still screaming when Jenoah and Amadeo walked in the room.

He was still screaming when they released him from the chair and tried to get him to stand.

He was still screaming when something hard slammed into the back of his neck and –

.

.

.

* * *

.

And that's it for now. Damn, this got even darker than last chapter, but I'll get to the fluff. Eventually. On another note, I'll probably stick to shorter chapters from now on. Writing this was exhausting.

I didn't expect to feel this upset about Nero's death. I mean, I usually don't get attached to OCs, and I pretty much knew he had to go from the start, but … (*sobs*). I hope I managed to show how close the two of them had grown over the years, even though they hadn't accomplished full Harmony yet.

I also realize that a few things are fuzzy for people who are not in my head, (i.e everyone). Tsuna is ~ eight during this chapter (which spans a couple of months). He met Nero when he was ~ six.

Also, OperaEagle IcelynLacelett wondered about the scientists trying to harmonize with Tsuna themselves. I like to think that the searchers aren't all Flame Users. They are trying to understand the process of harmonization, to work it out and better grasp the bond between a Sky and his/her guardians. Some of the scientists who _do_ have Flames might feel greedy - Tsuna has strong Flames after all - but the way he dealt with forced attempts at harmonization so far is a good deterent. No one wants to end up burned to a crisp. They would probably wait until they'd made the whole thing safer before trying it themselves.

I hope that clarifies it for you guys?

Thanks for the reviews, they make my day.

Next chapter: the great escape. Lot of smoke and fire and poor traumatized mafia kids. And Mukuro. Briefly.

Rei.


	4. Captive III

Time crawled by.

He was drifting in a sea of numbness, shapeless and weightless, and it felt a bit like flying. Emotions were a distant memory, something blurry and half-forgotten that couldn't reach him anymore.

The other kids in the cell came and went, circling him like silent shadows, watchful and wary. Out of them all, a blond boy stood out simply because he kept coming back. Again and again and again. To poke him in the ribs with a bony finger, to prod him in the back with the tip of a foot, to gloat and brag and show off with words as sharp as razor blades. But then something changed. The smug smile faded, slowly turning into a frown that became a scowl. Green eyes narrowed. Bony hands tightened into fists.

 _Careful_ , a monster whispered from far away, carrying an echo of _watch your back_ and _don't look_ _weak_ and _Vito_.

A blink.

And everything was silent again.

"You're just going to give up?" the boy asked. "You're just going to roll over and let them _win_?"

Another blink.

The boy left with a muttered curse.

Times crawled by.

It was like free-falling. Sort of. Down and down and down in a place of darkness and ice.

Searchers gravitated around him, their voices a background buzz of white noise.

He closed his eyes.

Breathed.

In and out.

Time crawled by.

Hands touched him. His body was shifted, lifted, and suddenly he was in another room.

Bright and empty, like the one where –

Deep inside, there was a _crack_.

 _No_.

His thoughts scattered like a handful of sand lost in the wind.

(Do. Not. Remember.)

They tried to get him to eat, to drink.

He choked on liquid and almost drowned in a cup of water. The cold food shoved down his throat came back up before it ever got the chance to hit his stomach. He heaved and coughed. The back of his throat burned, but it was a muted sensation, as if he'd just stepped out of his body to watch a stranger being sick.

Another flurry of activity and, somehow, he was on a bed, wrists and ankles bound to side rails. Words were thrown around, _starving_ and _unresponsive_ and _shock_. Someone stabbed a needle in his arm. That should have hurt.

Maybe.

Probably.

He stared at the white coats whirling around him and didn't make a single sound.

There was – there was a _tightness_ in his chest. Like the beginning of a scream bleeding in the emptiness inside. He observed that oddity from afar, then gently pushed back, away and away until it was like the scream hadn't ever existed.

Times crawled by.

They moved him often, maneuvering his limp form to stick electrodes and sensors all over his skin.

The floating sensation increased.

A machine beeped incessantly beside the bed. Red lines danced over a small screen. Numbers changed and blinked in tandem with his pulse. The noise could have been distracting, even annoying, but there was no feeling beating in his chest and so the shrills signals didn't matter.

Sometimes, it felt like he could glide right through the ceiling and straight into the sky. Which wouldn't have been such a bad thing.

Right?

Time crawled by.

He closed his eyes and didn't open them again.

Everything around him was dark – as if a black cloak had been thrown over the world, as if the sun had died and there was no starlight to show the way back. Strangely, he found himself instinctively seeking out a spark of golden fire, a flicker of familiar Flames that should have been there.

There was nothing.

He was alone.

Emptiness filled his dreams and sinking deeper into its cold embrace was a relief.

He slept.

( _Coward_ , a voice hissed in his ear. _Weak and useless and_ m _U_ R _d e_ R _e r_.)

Time crawled by.

And then, one day, the world exploded.

Sirens started shrieking from beyond a closed door. They didn't register, not at first, and neither did the faint shaking running through the floor and walls.

But he was still alive. Despite everything, against all odds, he was still alive. His hearbeat was strong and steady, his lungs working, his brain crackling with electrical impulses. As if a command to live had been carved into his very bones, his body wouldn't completely shut down, wouldn't just _let_ _go_.

And so.

When dark smoke entered the room, when the air around him became more poison than life – he woke up.

Not with a bang or a scream, but with a tremor.

It started with a sore throat, a swelling ache that swept down across his chest. The dark void he was floating in suddenly wasn't so disconnected from reality anymore. Something heavy and painful tugged at him, like a bond snapping taunt.

He panicked. Fought back.

Sensations fluttered on the edge of his senses.

He struggled harder, caught somewhere between awake and asleep, and it was like trying to hold an ocean within your cupped hands. The more he resisted, the more he could feel himself slipping away.

 _No_. The word drifted around him. _No, I don't want to go back_.

He coughed, wheezing and panting, and this time it hurt. He was choking. The dizzying realization of being linked to a suffocating body bloomed in his mind.

And suddenly, it made perfect sense.

He – right now – he was dying, wasn't he?

An earth-shaking roar answered that thought. A whirlwind of panic and Flames rose from bellow and it shook him so badly that –

He fell. And crashed into something small and solid.

Tsuna's eyes snapped open.

.

* * *

.

The room was filled with smoke.

Tsuna jerked upright, only to bounce right back onto the mattress. A metallic sound came from beside him. His wrists throbbed. They felt sore and a little numb, like body parts that had stayed unmoving for too long.

Tsuna blinked, realizing in a daze that he was tied with cuffs to the side-rails of a bed. He pulled at the restraints, weakly, his mind still reeling from the shock of being conscious for the first time in days.

Shouts and yells reached his ears. A siren blared its shrill song in the hallway. Then everything shook as an explosion rocked the building.

Tsuna gasped, pressing his face into the mattress.

It was overwhelming. Too many sensations assaulting him from all sides, too much information to process, too many instincts battering at the inside of his skull.

He must. There was. Something. Important.

Some _one_ important.

(Where was – )

Heat flared in Tsuna's chest.

 _Get up_ , the Flames whispered. _Get up now_.

Yes, that sounded like the right thing to do – though impossible at the moment. Everything was too ... wobbly.

Tsuna tried to blink the universe back into focus. It was a slow process, and still black smoke swirled into the room. It came in from under the door and through the air vent, growing thicker and heavier by the second.

The world had stopped spinning. His vision was clear again.

Tsuna pulled at the cuffs. They didn't give an inch.

 _Get up_ , the monster repeated. _Leave_. _Now_.

Fire pounded at him, straining and pushing against the frayed leash of his control.

"Fine," Tsuna said to the empty room. "Fine."

And he allowed a fraction of his Flames to rise to the surface.

They rushed out with a triumphant cry, soaring from Tsuna's core and instantly filled him to the brim with _potential_. They sang of freedom and shattered chains and cold places, and the power they carried was just enough to make him move.

Tsuna sat up.

He glanced down at the cuffs. Dislike spiked in his heartbeat, underlined by an intense need for the damn things to be gone, now, _right now._ His response was all animal instincts after that. A single thought, a quick pulse of intent – and his wrists easily passed through the cuffs with a hissing sound. Nothing was left but a mess of gutted leather and steaming metal.

Tsuna froze, waiting for the collar around his neck to react.

Nothing happened. It didn't even let out a sound of warning.

Strange. Not unwelcome, but strange.

Tsuna let out a slow breath.

He clambered out of the bed and his knees immediately buckled.

He dry-heaved, belly twisting painfully, and it only got him to inhale more smoke. He clung to the side of the mattress as white spots appeared across his vision like a firework, bright and loud and blinding.

The world tilted on its axis. Darkness crept closer, beckoning with soft promises of sleep and peace and –

 _(Again, try again)_

Flames moved under his skin, pinching and snapping with sharp teeth.

( _We're strong. Get up._ )

Tsuna stood up again, and miraculously managed not to fall flat on his face. From there, it was only a matter of stepping away from the bed and leaving the room. Slowly. Carefully. One foot in front of the other.

 _Left, right. Left, right._

The door was unlocked.

Tsuna grabbed the handle, pushed, and it swung open without resistance.

He entered a lab room. There was no one in sight. A couple of abandoned papers littered the floor and one chair lied on its back, as if someone had abruptly stood up and sent it crashing on the white tiles. Everything was silent.

Tsuna crossed the room and went through a second door. A short hallway stretched out on either side of him. The smoke was thicker out there, shifting and swirling near the ceiling like stormy clouds. It was getting really hard to breathe.

Tsuna coughed, his eyes painfully dry, and turned right even though he knew – he just _knew_ –that going left would have lead him outside.

But no.

Not yet.

(Where was –)

He reached inside as he walked, giving a light tug at the fire burning in his chest. It answered with a deep purr, bringing back the echo of a location. A direction. Tsuna picked up his speed. Sort of. It was more of a lopsided scramble than an actual run, but it got the job done. He was going forward and that was good enough for now.

Another door. A flight of stairs.

And then _screams_.

" _No!_ "

Shouts abruptly exploded further ahead in the hallway. A loud _bang_ put an end to the commotion, immediately followed by a second and third one.

"Yeah," a voice said in the ensuing silence. "Definitely not going for a stealthy exit."

"No kidding." A second person, one that sounded young and stiff.

"Leave the next one to me, okay? I can take them."

"Please. You'll only manage to get yourself killed in a blaze of stupidity."

A snort. "Isn't it supposed to be a blaze of glory or something?"

"Depends on the level of idiocy involved. Yours hit critical years ago. How are you even still alive?"

" _Hey!_ "

Tsuna didn't pause, didn't allow himself to falter or hesitate, because he wasn't sure he could ever bring himself to move again if he stopped now.

He rounded a corner and was met with a scene of carnage.

Bodies lied on the floor, like broken dolls clothed in white coats soaked through with gore and crimson. Several of them had scratches and small marks on their faces, as if they'd clawed at the skin there to reach the flesh underneath. Their expressions were twisted, contorting into grimaces of horrified disbelief.

Three boys ambled in the middle of the slaughter.

One of them had a scar running across the bridge of his nose. His hair was as blond as sunlight and his eyes were large and dark. Maybe brown? Or green? Tsuna was too far to say for sure. Another kid stood beside the blond, a thin figure of skinny limbs, black hair and pale skin that glared at the world from behind a pair of broken glasses.

And then there was the third boy – the one covered in blood that held a strange weapon with three sharp ends in his left hand.

The air shifted around him, hot enough to push back the black smoke that floated near the ceiling. It circled him, encasing the three of them in a small cocoon of invisible patterns that danced and twisted and pulsed with awareness.

Tsuna stared.

They probably came from another cell. He didn't know any of them.

"Oh?" The third boy noticed him and tilted his head to the side. "I didn't know there was still someone left over there."

Tsuna opened his mouth. Words tumbled out. "I was sleeping."

"You were sleeping," the blond repeated incredulously. He made a wide gesture to indicate their surroundings. "Through _this_. Are you an idiot?"

"Huh." The kid with glasses muttered.

The blond frowned at him. "What?"

"Nothing. Just thinking about the irony of _you_ calling someone an idiot."

"Dammit, Chikusa!"

"Be quiet," the boy holding the strange weapon cut in.

He didn't raise his voice.

The bickering behind him died.

"Are you from another cell?" the boy asked, cocking his head to the side.

Tsuna nodded.

That got him a considering look, weighting and judging.

And then the boy smiled. "You woke up just in time for the fun then," he said, spreading his arms around him, as if to show off the dead. "Lucky you."

Tsuna didn't answer. He just just kept going, stepping into the circle of glittering air because the place he wanted to reach was somewhere at the other end of that hallway. The unnatural heat pressed down upon him, teasing and mocking. There was something mean in its warmth – something that was all sharp edges and broken pieces.

The boy watched him. "You're going the wrong way," he said. The curve of his lips turned sly. "The exit's behind you. I can show where it is."

"No need." Tsuna met mismatched eyes and didn't look away. "It's fine. I don't want to leave yet."

And he let his own Flames flare up around him.

It hit the foreign heat with a warning growl, and the bitter presence inside reared back in shock, startled out of its game.

The boy's lips parted. He blinked. Once. Twice. Next to him, the other two kids tensed, drawing in sharp breaths.

Tsuna ignored them all.

His feet carried him forward, carefully avoiding the broken dolls lying around. He kept his mind blank – so, _so_ carefully blank. Just another couple of steps and the floor would be white and clean again.

(Where was –)

"Wait."

A hand closed around his left shoulder. Tsuna paused, glancing back.

The boy's eyes roved all over his face and his expression was –

( _Intense_.)

– curious.

Tsuna swallowing the scream that was trying to crawl out of his throat and forced himself to wait.

"Give me a second," the boy said. "I'll get rid of this for you." His smile came back, wider than before. "As an apology for disturbing your sleep."

A pale finger tapped the metallic band that had been wrapped forever around Tsuna's neck. The thing gave a little whirring noise, then a _beep_ and a _click_. It fell open and tumbled down his front, landing at his feet with a dull sound.

Tsuna stood utterly still.

The air around him wavered, displaced by something hot and invisible. The boy's Flames poked his arm, curious and without a hint of the cruelty it'd displayed moments ago. Tsuna's fire perked up at that, suddenly interested. A probing tendril of burning orange reached out. Brushed against cool mist.

A floodgate burst open in Tsuna's mind.

Sensations slammed into him, hard and fast.

(– _p-a-i-n_ and _r-a-g-e_ and _e-x-h-a-u-s-t-i-o-n_ and _I'l-l-k-i-l-l-y-o-u_ –)

It felt like drowning, except that he could still breathe.

Tsuna snatched his Flames back and jerked away.

The boy swayed. "Oh," he whispered. "You're a Sky."

(What?)

Tsuna shook his head. He stepped around the trio, his fire pulled tight and close around him. It gave a grumpy rumble of annoyance at being reeled in, but thankfully settled back under his skin without a fight.

"What was that?" A voice rose behind Tsuna, shrill and thin – the blond, who sounded as if he'd choked on his own tongue. "What the _fuck_ was that?"

A door swang shut and Tsuna didn't hear the rest.

Dizziness hit him out of nowhere.

He leaned against the nearest wall, gasping. A flash of red pulled his attention downward. Blood stained the hem of his grey pants, and his bare feet were covered with gore.

Tsuna hunched over and heaved.

Bile splattered on the floor with a wet sound.

( _Keep going. Don't stop_.)

"I know," Tsuna muttered, wiping his mouth. "I won't."

His destination was right there, after all. He had to try.

Tsuna pushed away from the wall and his feet carried him forward, retracing a path he'd taken many times before.

Another hallway and, finally, a door.

It was locked.

Tsuna struggled with it for a moment, pulling at the handle and banging at the electronic keypad.

Nothing worked. The stupid block of metal wouldn't budge.

( _Hurry_.)

Yes, he had to hurry. He knew that already.

Tsuna wrapped his hands around the door handle and _focused_.

Fire rushed out in the open, licking up his skin with Flames as bright as the first sunrise. He hastily grabbed them, and they let themselves be corralled and channeled without a hint of resistance, flowing down his shoulders and arms to gather in his hands until it looked like he was holding two supernovas.

The handle twisted between Tsuna's fingers, then melted with a hiss and a puff of steam. He kept going, splaying his fingers wide on the door and the lock underneath. A _push_ and his hands went all the way through reinforced steel.

Tsuna fumbled with the gaping hole he'd just made, pulled the door open, and tripped into the cell.

Hot air rushed past him, and he had to look away to protect his eyes. Then he saw them. Kids were huddled together against the opposite wall, sitting close to each other as if their bodies could provide some protection against the smoke.

Tsuna's eyes greedily ran over the group. Seeking. Searching.

(Where was – )

"… Nero?"

"Not here." Vito stood up from the cluster of shivering children. He coughed. "It's been weeks, half-breed."

Tsuna froze.

 _Weeks_.

Of course.

He'd known that.

He'd been there.

(He'd done it _._ )

So why had he still come looking for Nero anyway? Even though it wouldn't change anything, even though it wouldn't bring him back, even though he was _gonegonegone_ –

"Don't you _fucking_ start that shit again." Vito grabbed the front of Tsuna's shirt and shook him a little. "You don't get to shut down now," he spat, voice hoarse from smoke and anger. "Not before you tell me what's happening out there. Where are Amadeo and Jenoah?"

"Don't know," Tsuna said, and it was strange to hear his voice coming out so calm and controlled when it felt like he'd just shattered into a thousand pieces all over again. "But we should leave."

"No shit." Vito roughly let him go, and went to get a look at the hallway. He peeked out, left then right, and blanched.

"I can get you out," Tsuna said, still distant and sort of floating outside of his body. "I know the way."

Vito glanced back, eyes narrowing with suspicion.

"I can," Tsuna insisted. "Trust me."

He didn't care either way, but _out_ in general seemed like a good idea, one that Vito and the others could get behind.

The rest of the kids had joined them by now, stumbling and crying and half blind. Not counting Tsuna and Vito, there were four of them – four terrified kids that stared at Tsuna with pale faces and wary hope.

They were counting on him, Tsuna suddenly realized. To lead them out. To survive.

The weight of that responsibility was crushing, and it smacked him right back into his body. He staggered, abruptly aware that those were children in front of him – people with feelings and futures and lives.

Tsuna looked at them with wide eyes.

He opened his mouth to throw up.

"Don't get left behind," he heard himself say instead. "Stay close together and hold hands if you need to. Leave –" He paused, swallowed hard, and continued, "Leave the rest to me. I-I'll make sure we all get out of here."

Hesitant nods all around. Several kids reached out and latched onto the person closest to them until they'd formed a sort of human chain.

Tsuna turned around.

A hand grabbed his.

"What?" Vito sneered at Tsuna's suprised face. "I'm not taking any chance. I'm staying right here next to you."

Except that he was holding on tight enough to break Tsuna's bones, radiating intense fear and helplessness and _I don't want to die_.

Tsuna gave a jerky nod. And headed out.

He let his Flames' whispers guide him, avoiding the worst of the fires by ducking into side rooms and small passages. The children were quiet behind him, silently trailing his every move. Even the youngest one – a little girl who couldn't have been older than four – didn't make a single sound.

It felt like an eternity had passed when cold air finally slapped Tsuna's face.

He blinked, realizing he was in a small courtyard, the one where together with Nero he'd dreamed of _Outside_.

The kids spilled out in the open around him, hacking and coughing as they ran away from the fire. Black clouds billowed out into the night sky, blotting out the stars and the moon. The roaring of the flames at their backs was deafening, threatening to swallow whole anyone who dared to linger inside.

Tsuna flexed his hands. His nails bit into his palms, hard enough to leave marks. How fitting, he thought, that at the very end he would find himself there.

"Dammit," Vito growled, prowling all over the courtyard. "That's no exit, half-breed. We're fucking dead!"

"No." Tsuna unlocked his jaw. "We're not."

He walked toward a wall and observed it critically. It was gray and cracked. Tall, but leaning slightly inward, as if it would collapse on itself if given enough time.

They did _not_ have time.

Anger spiked in Tsuna's chest, stabbing right through the emptiness where Nero's Flames used to be. Self-loathing, cold and sharp, followed in its wake. Because he was so weak. Because he'd _failed_.

"Hey," Vito's voice broke the silence. He pointed a finger at Tsuna. "What the hell?"

Tsuna looked down. Sparks of fiery amber floated around his body like small fireflies and his eyes felt hot. Very, very hot. Which meant that they were glowing. Tsuna knew it because he'd heard some of the scientists talking about it a long time ago. Something about a reaction to pain and how close to the surface he allowed his Flames to rise.

That was alright.

Tsuna didn't feel like hiding his monster anymore.

What was the point? He was alone.

The children were still watching him, waiting for a miracle they'd been taught to never expect.

"Stand back," Tsuna said.

They all did, taking one, two, then three large steps away from him.

Tsuna faced the wall. He made a fist.

And _punched_.

.

* * *

.

That's it for this time. Damn, I'm beat. Work's kicking my ass.

 **Next chapter** : Tsuna's lost in Italy. Things are not going well.

See you next chapter :)


	5. Lost

Long branches swayed lazily against a wide background of blue sky. Leaves of vivid green whispered and rippled in the air, fluttering in a light breeze that carried a hint of rain and summer.

The window was large and clean. It had no lock, no bars, as if it were perfectly normal to reach out and pull it open, as if nobody cared that it could be used to slip away from the room.

Tsuna stared, caught somewhere between fascinated and petrified. His eyes were wide, dry, and the world was going blurry at the edge of his vision. But he didn't blink.

Was it a test?

A trick?

It sure felt like the gaping maw of a trap posed to swallow him whole if he twitched wrong.

Tsuna sneaked a glance to his right.

The woman sitting beside him didn't notice. She'd plopped down on a chair hours ago and hadn't really looked up from her smartphone since then. Even now she was focused on the flat screen, her brows furrowed in a straight line of concentration. Tsuna's eyes slid down her blue uniform, landing on the gun strapped at her hips. He shuddered.

Finally sensing his gaze on her, the woman looked up. "Doing alright?" she asked.

Tsuna nodded, squirming a little. The white sheet concealing the dirty and ragged grey of his pants shifted, creasing and wrinkling with each move. Tsuna ran a hand over the fabric, admiring how nice it felt against his skin.

Really, this so-called hospital wasn't bad at all. Yes, it did smell of disinfectant, and people in white coats were everywhere.

But.

It was new. And so different.

They'd given him food, water, and put him in a bed so soft it melted under him when he lied down. The place was alive, like a whirlwind of sounds and movements, full of colors and voices. No children crept along the walls, cringing each time a doctor looked their ways. It didn't reek of _fear_.

Tsuna sort of liked it.

(Not like he had a choice anyway.)

Observing his surroundings was becoming an addiction. The objects. The rooms. The doctors and their patients. The way they talked and walked and worked.

Staying focused and watchful was good, necessary even.

To avoid getting trapped in his own mind. To forget the maze of bloody memories where little shadows ran and ran and ran in a dark forest, and where their screams echoed each other's, and where Nero _jumped in front of Tsuna with a yell_ –

His hands were shaking.

Tsuna looked down.

Even against the white of the sheet, his fingers were pale, the tips almost blue.

And the tremors wouldn't stop.

Tsuna slipped his hands under his thighs, folding his memories away in the same breath.

A rustle of fabric.

Plastic sliding over metal.

"Hey, guys!"

A nurse appeared, swinging the privacy curtain open with a grin. The sounds of furious activity immediately seemed to grow in intensity, as if having a visual of the people milling about in the rest of the emergency room made them more real.

Tsuna flinched.

The nurse's smile dimmed. "I've got good news for you," he said, closing the curtain behind him.

"Oh?" The woman sitting beside the bed stirred. "Are they here?"

The nurse hummed an affirmative. "Just walked through the door." He fiddled with the roller clamp of Tsuna's IV and scribbled something on a chart. "The wait's almost over, so hang in there a little longer, okay? We'll set you up in your own room asap."

"Awesome." The policewoman stood up, slid her phone in her pocket, and stretched both arms above her head with a sigh of relief. She grinned. "So. Your parents will be here soon. How cool is that?"

Tsuna stared at her blankly.

Silence filled his head, loud and roaring.

 _Liar_ , a small, ugly voice hissed in his ears. _Dirty, filthy liar_.

That word – _parents_ – had made him uncomfortable from the very moment a policeman had whispered to a stern-faced doctor that they'd successfully contacted his guardians.

"Okay, you're doing great," the nurse muttered, eying the machine beeping by the bed. "But you're still a little dehydrated so don't forget to drink."

A pointed look at the untouched glass of funny salty water on the night table.

Tsuna frowned at it.

The nurse huffed a little laugh, ruffled Tsuna's hair, then disappeared behind the curtain.

Stillness fell over the tiny, confined space.

Tsuna fidgeted, biting his lips. His skin itched, as if something was crawling underneath. He scratched his forearms, leaving angry welts of red behind. It didn't make him feel any better. If anything, the irritating sensation grew stronger. Something under his skin was poking at him, prickling and stinging and smarting and _not going away_.

His Flames bucked.

( _Leave. Need-to-leave now_.)

He hopped off the bed.

The policewoman blinked at him. "Do you have to go to the bathroom – _hey!_ "

Tsuna ripped the needle from his arm, yanked the privacy curtain open, and was immediately swallowed by a tidal wave of organized chaos.

Men and woman strode past him with purposeful steps, some wearing white coats, others dressed in blue scrubs. Medical machines beeped and blinked, phones were ringing, and somewhere close by a baby had started crying. Everything was fast and loud, like a beehive kicked into overdrive.

It was so far from the silence and stillness of Tsuna's cell, so different from the cold and sterile rooms where he had been watched like a bug under a microscope.

Tsuna froze.

Too much.

It was just. _Too much_.

He could feel his body locking up, his mind rebelling against the violent onslaught of sensory input. He remembered now, crossing this very room for the first time earlier that afternoon. The old lady who'd picked him up in the forest had brought him there, to this _emergency room_ , and he'd sort of gone catatonic on them.

And it was happening again.

His thoughts were slowing to a crawl, his mind shutting down, his lungs tightening –

"Damn." A hand clamped down on Tsuna's shoulder and turned him around. "What a mess." The policewoman grabbed a tissue and dabbed at the trickle of blood running down Tsuna's arm. "Come on, get back in bed."

Tsuna opened his mouth to say _no, I want to leave_ , but no sound came out.

The woman frowned. It could have been terrifying expression, a warning to stop being difficult _right now_ , but there was no real anger on her face. Her eyes – large and blue – were clear and direct. They didn't hide any shadow.

She started to firmly herd Tsuna backward – and then suddenly paused. Her attention had been caught by something at the reception desk. She pointed a finger. "Look. I think that's your folks over there."

Tsuna blinked. Glanced over his shoulder.

A young couple was talking to a doctor and a police officer. They nodded along with whatever the doctor was saying, their heads regularly bobbing up and down.

Tsuna squinted.

The sensation of little feet creeping under his skin increased. His heartbeat stuttered. It became loud and heavy, a rapid series of punches hitting him right in the sternum over and over again.

 _Thump-thump. Thump-thump._

The police officer saw them, too. "Isn't he supposed to stay in bed?" he called.

The policewoman answered with a scowl. "You're taking too long!"

There was an exasperated retort, something about _paperwork_ and _procedure_ , but Tsuna tuned it out because the couple had started to turn around and –

His Flames _s-c-r-e-a-m-e-d._

They slammed into Tsuna with a shriek, clawing at the back of his mind, leaving deep gashes that bled with frantic urgency.

Tsuna stumbled back, his arm slipping free from the policewoman's hand.

Because _yes,_ he knew those people, Tsuna realized hysterically. Knew them from the white room of harmony where the woman had stood over him with syringes in one hand and scalpels in the other. Knew them from his cell where a guard had thrown him a piece of bread with a cheerful _dig in_.

The female scientist walked briskly in his direction. "Good," she said. "You're here. You're safe."

And next to her, Jenoah grinned. "Hey, kiddo. Ready to go home?"

.

* * *

.

Tsuna still didn't know what he'd expected to find on the other side of that wall he'd punched.

It had crumbled easily enough, blown away by a pillar of his Flames that had left an opening big enough for Tsuna and all the other kids to walk through side by side.

This was it, right? The big escape, the moment he claimed back his own life.

And yet.

Tsuna thought that freedom wasn't supposed to look like a crowd of frantic people milling around the ruins of a crumbling mansion engulfed in flames. That it wasn't supposed to smell like smoke, to sound like the shrill calls of dozens of sirens blaring into the night.

Tsuna hadn't even set a single toe Outside, and already everything was wrong.

He'd stood there for a moment, stunned, surrounded by five equally shocked children.

And then they'd been seen.

A man in a black uniform with bright yellow lines running down his torso and legs had looked up. He'd been holding a big hose and spraying water at the flames when his eyes had fallen on their little group. Tsuna remembered the way the man had blinked, once, twice, the surprise on his face put in sharp contrast by the blinding lights of red and blue flashing at the top of a red truck.

 _("Hey! There are kids over there!")_

Terror.

Electrifying, raw terror.

The kind that drove all thoughts out of your mind, that destroyed reason and logic, that buried the human deep down until nothing was left but two animal instincts – fight or flight.

Tsuna's choice had been made in a split second.

He'd _run_.

Through an endless forest of towering trees that smelled of rain and smoke. Deeper and deeper still, the _thud-thud-thud_ of his steps slamming onto the forest floor echoed by ten other tiny feet as the other kids took off after him.

People had followed them, shouting and yelling.

Their group had scattered.

Tsuna hadn't stopped. He hadn't looked back, hadn't slowed down even when everything had grown quiet around him and there'd been nothing in his ears but the thunderous drums of his own heartbeat. He'd kept going, and then, later, when his whole body had started to hurt and his feet were leaving blood everywhere, he'd walked. Limping, stumbling, half crawling.

Stars had winked out of existence, swallowed by hues of pink and purple as daylight crept over the horizon.

By morning, he'd made it out of the forest and onto a winding road that weaved in and out of the tree line. It'd stretched out farther than the eyes could see, and Tsuna had followed it, numbly, stupidly, until something large had rumbled to a stop next to him.

Doors opening and slamming shut.

Shocked exclamations of _oh, honey_ , and _what happened to you_ , and _don't worry, I've got you_.

The warmth of leather seats against his skin. A lurch. The long-forgotten sensation of moving even though he was sitting. A car engine vibrating under him as beyond the window trees became a blurry picture.

Tsuna had been too exhausted to fight. To talk. To care.

A water bottle had been pushed into his hands. Food, too. Dry and sweet and crunchy.

And then sleep.

And then the hospital.

And then _this_.

"Tsuna-kun, wait!"

And now Tsuna was running again.

He risked a look back.

Jenoah and the policewoman were hurrying after him, so close he could see their faces. She looked worried and confused. Jenoah was grinning.

Tsuna pushed himself to the limit, pumping his arms and legs as hard as he could, as if every single one of his nightmares were nipping at his heels – and then he ran _faster. D_ own big streets packed with more people he'd ever seen in his life, toward a big crossroad where cars flowed to a smooth, rumbling halt. The sun had started to set some time ago, but apparently the impending night wasn't intimidating anyone. Street lamps lit up with electricity, turning into shining beacons that emphasized how terrifyingly _huge_ Outside was.

Tsuna's side was in agony, ablaze with a side-stitch so intense he felt like throwing up. His feet pounded against the ground, throbbing each time they slapped over cobbled stones. Sweat beaded his forehead, sliding down into his eyes and burning like hell.

( _Right. Turn right!_ )

Half blind, Tsuna abruptly veered off course, throwing his body in another direction. The violent change of pace sent him careening in a group of people. Startled cries rose all around him as his shoulder rammed into a woman's side.

"Hey!"

Tsuna fell, hard, and immediately picked himself up, ignoring the string of curses that followed in his wake.

His Flames guided him, steadily leading him farther and farther away from the main boulevards, deeper and deeper in a maze of small side-streets and narrow alleys. The rush of people around him lessened, becoming a mere trickle where it had been a roaring river minutes ago. Stucco walls and high iron gates towered over him as he ran, drawing shadows and monsters in the dark.

( _Left, now!_ )

Tsuna exploded out of a back street onto a large city square.

Cars and bikes whizzed by. Imposing buildings of carved stones and soaring peaks loomed all around. The evening crowd jostled for free space as people waited for traffic lights to turn green.

Tsuna stilled, a deer caught in headlights, wheezing and panting.

The water they'd given him earlier roiled in his belly. Bile flooded his mouth, bitter and familiar.

A yell behind him.

Voices that called his name – _Jenoah_ 's voice _._

Tsuna darted away, melting into the crowd.

There was a high chain-link fence on the other side of the square, and beyond that several railroads came out of a big building. Long metallic machines – _look at the board, look! That's a train_ – arrived and departed, smoothly gliding along rail lines.

Tsuna followed the fence toward the entrance of the tall building.

He stayed half bent, keeping close to the ground until he'd slipped past the automatic door and stepped inside the train station. People walked around him, towing bags and suitcases behind them, their heads tilted up to read the information boards hanging on the walls.

( _Over here_. _Quick_.)

Another nudge of his Flames, a whisper at the back of his mind, and Tsuna shuffled toward the revolving door humming beside a newspaper stand.

It opened onto a large parking lot that smelled of diesel fumes and hot asphalt. Buses strategically stationed along the sidewalk displayed signs on their windshields. _Roma_ , and _Florence_ , and _Nice, France_.

A little bit ahead, several people were queuing to get on a red bus. They were all pretty old, with greying hair and wrinkled faces. A buzz of excitment surrounded the group as they waved flyers and maps in the air. The driver was busy shoving luggage into the cargo area, the heavy bay doors hanging open above his head.

"Excuse me?" A woman called, and the man walked over to answer her questions.

Tsuna stopped. Hesitated.

A flare of heat in his veins.

A push of _nownownow_.

Tsuna leaped into the luggage compartment before the driver came back. He clambered over heavy suitcases and bags, hurrying toward the depth of the bus's belly where he squeezed out of sight behind a particularly large bag.

The driver returned. The luggage doors slammed shut with a thunderous _bang_. The engine rumbled to life a moment later and the bus started moving

Tsuna stayed still, shaking all over. Adrenaline started to leave his system. All the aches and pains he'd been ignoring during his escape started to make themselves known. His feet hurt, his lungs were burning, and his head felt like an overripe fruit about to burst open.

But he was free.

Tsuna closed his eyes and was asleep within seconds.

.

* * *

.

The blond woman slipped her hand in the crook of her husband's elbow. He murmured something in her ear. She laughed and let herself be lead away. They walked out the front door, heading for the black SUV parked in front of the Chinese restaurant where they'd had dinner.

Tsuna watched as they climbed inside the car and drove away.

He was tucked in the narrow space where the wall fence of an old house met the roof of its car shelter. It was small, and uncomfortable, but it had the advantage of providing an unencumbered view of the street below.

Tsuna tracked the car all the way to the end of the street. It turned right, and then there was no else in sight. Tsuna focused back on the restaurant.

A server was locking the front door, and three others could be seen through the windows, sweeping and moping. It took them thirty minutes, but eventually the lights went out in the dining room and the staff spilled out onto the sidewalk. They split out, some opting to walk home while others used bikes or scooters.

Tsuna didn't move, his eyes never straying from his prize.

He'd come far during the last couple of weeks, had learned so many things. _Outside_ was fast, loud, and big, so much more than what he'd remembered. The city he'd landed in after sneaking into that bus was absolutely huge. It had a pulse, like a heartbeat, and thrummed with life from sunrise to sundown.

Which had quickly turned into something of a problem.

Because daylight?

It was dangerous. With it came people and curiosity and the alarming realization that skinny children in dirty clothes didn't go unnoticed for long. Attention was dangerous, the very last thing Tsuna wanted, ever, because that way lay the _polizia_. And hospitals. And doctors. And _Jenoah_.

(Tsuna was never going back. He _wasn't_.)

There was a certain amount of familiarity to be found in that situation though. In fact, the unwritten rules of Outside weren't all that different from the ones that had applied back in his cell.

Be small. Be smart. Don't be heard, don't be seen.

So.

Tsuna watched. He watched, and he learned.

Where to hide. Where to find food. Where to get water. That it was safe– or at least, relatively safe – to come out and scavenge the scraps and bits he needed to survive during the hours between dusk and dawn, when the rest of the world was asleep.

Like now.

The street was completely silent. Even the constant sound of traffic had faded away.

Tsuna grumbled.

Hunger twisted his stomach, a constant companion that never went away these days. Still, he didn't move – no matter how tempting it was to clamber down from his hiding spot and make a beeline for the big dumpster at the back of restaurant.

 _Not yet_.

Tsuna brushed a finger against his throbbing cheek.

A reminder.

A warning.

( _Don't get confident.)_

As expected, something soon shifted in his peripheral vision.

Someone – a man, tall and thin – came out of the shadows and lumbered toward the restaurant. Even from where he was, Tsuna could make out the badly patched up brown of the man's shirt, the way his pants were too big and too long for him. His face was dirty, half hidden in the artificial light of the street lamps and shadowed by a rugged beard that was several weeks long.

Warily, the homeless man peered through the windows – no one was inside – then quickly disappeared into a narrow alley beside the restaurant.

Tsuna sighed.

Last night, he'd gone straight for the leftovers thrown away by the restaurant staff, only to discover the hard way that some people weren't very fond of sharing.

(" _Scram!_ ")

Tsuna grimaced, massaging his face. Yeah, he'd wait a little longer before trying his chance out there.

His belly disagreed. It let out a loud complain, cramping painfully.

Tsuna told it to shut up and tough it out.

( _Why?_ )

The Flames slumbering in his chest suddenly stirred. They warmed and spread, running through his limbs like flowing lava, lingering in his head where exhaustion throbbed like a drum, and in his mid-section where hunger had buried its claws deep and hard.

A voice echoed in Tsuna's mind, promises of _no need to wait_ , and _no need to be afraid_ , and _no need to hesitate_.

Tsuna closed his eyes.

And came face to face with a monster.

It burned brightly, an ocean of Flames stretching out in all directions. Eyes of deep orange stared at him. Fangs formed of liquid fire glinted and glowed. The Flames let out a crooning sound, coaxing and playful and _let me out._

"No," Tsuna whispered.

Because he had yet to see a single person displaying a hint of Flames out there, and the last thing he wanted was to stand out and be _seen_.

The monster growled, flashing an impatient orange.

" _No_ ," Tsuna repeated.

Because he couldn't get out of his head the scene of a wall of fire snuffing out a tiny Sun's light. Because some nightmares were never meant to be unleashed on the rest of the world.

The monster snarled, hurt flaring bright and hot.

 _(Not my fault!)_

Tsuna shoved himself away, pushing and thrusting his Flames deep down. They fought back, swirling and snapping, struggling to break free, but Tsuna wouldn't budge. This wasn't a fight he was willing to lose.

It felt like an eternity had come and gone before Tsuna opened his eyes again. He blinked, sleep clinging to his eyelashes, and realized that dawn was almost there.

The street below him was still empty and quiet.

Another loud rumble came from his stomach.

Tsuna quietly scrambled down from his hiding place and darted across the street.

Time to see what scraps he could dig up for breakfast.

.

* * *

.

A flash of black and blue.

Metal glinting in the late afternoon sunlight.

A radio buzzed with a faraway voice, echoed by a cloud of static.

Tsuna flinched, recoiling deeper in the shadows of the parking lot. Something moved behind him. He glanced back. A cat was sitting atop the stucco wall on his left, looking down at him with feline disdain. The look it pierced Tsuna with was sharp enough to draw blood.

Tsuna frowned at the animal, then went back to peering around the rear tire of a shiny grey car.

( _There_.)

His eyes collided with black pants and blue shirts.

A little hiss of fright left his mouth.

He hunkered down – _smaller, smaller, don't be seen_ – and watched as a couple of uniformed men headed down the street. Their boots shone brightly under the harsh glare of the sun, big and heavy. There was a gun strapped to the men's sides, and one word was written in capital letters across the back of their jackets.

 _Polizia_.

Tsuna bit his lip, lowering himself until he was virtually lying on his belly. The uneven pavement made of small bricks was uncomfortable and a sharp rock dug painfully into his side – but better safe than sorry, right?

 _("So. Your parents will be here soon. How cool is that?")_

Tsuna didn't move for another long minute, his only companion the cat sitting imperiously on the wall at his back.

It had been a risk to leave his hideout during daylight, but hunger doubled with thirst was a powerful motivator. Tsuna had thought he could handle it, that he could cope with crowds of harried workers and fast traffic, that he could snatch an early diner and hurry away without getting caught.

Ha.

Running into the _polizia_ had been a very jarring wake up call.

Tsuna shuddered, hugging his middle.

Such a close call. Too damn close.

But now it was time to stop shaking like an idiot and _move_.

Tsuna tentatively stepped out from behind the car. His target – _Little Trinci_ – stood right there across the street. The couple of trash cans behind the bakery sometimes contained sweets and pastries no longer fresh enough to be sold – which, for Tsuna, was a real gold mine.

Tsuna wavered, torn between the desire to hide, and the visceral need to eat.

Hunger won in the end.

Hunching his shoulders and rounding his back, Tsuna quickly shuffled along the sidewalk.

The trick to avoid unnecessary attention, he'd learned, was to move fast and without hesitation. To dart from point A to point B without giving anyone the time to fully register his presence.

Tsuna made it to the narrow alley along the bakery without trouble.

He nodded to himself.

So far so good.

 _Little Trinci_ occupied the ground floor of a three-story house tucked at the end of long and winding street. It was small and pretty, made of small bricks, arched windows, and red tiles. It also doubled as a coffee shop, one that attracted a steady flow of costumers all-day long.

Tsuna carefully crept past the door that led into the kitchen and soon saw his prize – a neat row of three trash cans lined up along the wall. Tsuna opened the nearest one. Dark plastic bags met his gaze.

(Food.)

Hunger roared to life.

Tsuna stood on his tiptoes, heaved himself on the metallic edge, and started digging.

A pile of something wet and slimy. A layer of used kitchen paper roll. The peeled skins of green vegetables. A couple of apple cores, brown and squishy from the heat. He held up one of those in front of his face and squinted.

 _Good enough_.

Chewing, Tsuna dug faster, his stomach greedily snatching up anything he choked down before immediately clamoring for _moremoremore._

"So you're the little shit that's been lurking around like a rat for the past week, huh."

The voice was so unexpected that Tsuna almost toppled head over heels into the trash can.

His Flames flared, weakly, barely a whisper where weeks ago they had thundered in his mind.

(He'd pushed them too far, had ignored them too much.)

A hand grabbed the back of his shirt and jerked him backward.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Tsuna found himself dangling in front of a middle-aged man.

The stranger was tall and strong, with pitch-black hair and even darker eyes. He watched Tsuna with a frown, his lips pulled thin in a tight line of cutting disapproval. His expression grew fiercer as his eyes flicked over Tsuna's appearance, taking in his dirty clothes and the filth that covered every inch of his skin.

"Don't you smell like a bag of rotten roses." The man held him away, nose scrunching up. "Damn, when was the last time you grabbed a shower?"

Tsuna squeaked, tittering between mortification and terror. The tips of his feet skidded uselessly over the pavement as he struggled to break free, the collar of his shirt threatening to strangle him.

The man gave him a little shake. "Stop that."

Tsuna found his voice. "I'm sorry," he yelped, voice pitched high and shrill. "I'm sorry, I won't come back, please, I'm sorry!"

"For fuck's sake," the man growled, "give the dramatics a rest. Come on."

And Tsuna was promptly dragged into the three-story house behind them. He fought harder, kicking and punching, but none of his hits were effective. The man hauled him down a short hallway and walked in a medium-sized kitchen that was full of pots and containers scattered on a long counter. The right side of the room was entirely occupied by three ovens and two large refrigerator doors.

The man kicked a stool from under a table and dropped Tsuna on it.

"Don't move," he warned when Tsuna started to stand.

Tsuna froze, eyes wide, his pulse battering at his ribcage.

The man busied himself in the kitchen. Cupboards and drawers clanked and banged in the ominous silence, and then the grumpy stranger came back. He pushed two pieces of pie and a glass of milk in front of Tsuna, and ordered, "Eat."

Tsuna gaped at the offering.

It was whole, unspoiled, and didn't smell as if it had spent too long out in the sun.

And, just like that, alarm bled into Tsuna's mind like an open wound. It was a familiar feeling, a well-oiled paranoia which had nothing to do with his Flames. There was something entirely human to that panic, something that was all muscle-memory and gut-feeling.

That pie had to be poisoned.

Right?

Or maybe drugs had been slipped in the milk.

Perhaps the man was just waiting for Tsuna to fall for his tricks and cart his unconscious body off to another cell.

Tsuna tensed.

His legs burned with the need to move, twitching again and again as he prepared to bolt. A voice babbled in his ears, half hysterical, repeating that he was alive, that this was _Outside_ , that this was _Before_ , and that he could not – _would not_ – get caught again, especially not for doing something as stupid as accepting help from someone he'd never met.

But.

His hands were shaking again.

And sometimes yesterday his head had started to spin if he moved too fast.

He was just _so_ hungry _._

Squeezing his eyes shut, Tsuna grabbed a piece of pie and shoved it into his mouth.

It was cool, sweet, and sort of melted on his tongue before he'd even started chewing. Flavors exploded in his mouth. His taste buds came alive with a shriek of surprise, not used to anything but the strong and sickening taste of food long past its prime.

Tsuna gagged, tears gathering in his eyes, and swallowed.

"Slow down," the man grunted. He was leaning on the opposite side of the table, arms crossed over his chest. "You're gonna be sick, and that'll piss me off if you make a mess and force me to clean it up."

Tsuna didn't listen. Nothing mattered but soothing the gutting emptiness twisting his stomach in painful knots.

Soon, the glass of milk was half gone and there no pie left on the plate. Tsuna's belly ached. He could swear he'd never felt so full before, and it was the strangest sensation.

That didn't stop him from picking the crumbs of crust off the table and licking his fingers to polish them.

Movements besides him.

Tsuna's head whipped around.

The man had taken a phone out of a pocket. His fingers were dancing over its small screen, quick and precise.

Tsuna tensed. "What – what are you doing?"

"Little pipsqueaks like you ought to be in bed by now," the man answered, voice gruff.

No.

 _(No_.)

Ice washed over in Tsuna's veins. His hands balled into fists.

"A-are you calling the police?" he croaked.

The man paused long enough to throw Tsuna a dark look. "I don't know how you ended up in my backyard, but I sure as hell am not keeping you around to dig in my trash. That shit isn't good for business."

Tsuna swallowed thickly. "Don't."

The man ignored him.

 _("Look. I think that's your folks over there.")_

"Don't," Tsuna heard himself say again over the thunder of his heartbeat. "I'm not going back."

"Tell that to the poor sucker who's going to pick you up." The man put his phone against his ear and glared. "Not my problem. Now shut up and drink your goddamn milk."

 _("Hey, kiddo. Ready to go home?")_

Fear and anger crested in his chest, filling his mouth with a sour aftertaste that felt like cold iron and white rooms and chairs and restraints –

Tsuna jumped down from the stool. "I'm not going back!"

"You –"

" _I'm not!"_ Tsuna shouted.

And violent Flames burst around him.

The man froze, his scowl melting into a slack-jawed look. His phone slipped from his hand. It hit the ground with a sharp sound, bouncing twice before it stopped under the table.

Neither of them paid it any mind. The man gawked at Tsuna, watched how his hands burned with furious Flames, how his eyes glowed with a hint of the fiery monster hiding inside.

"Shit!"

And then he _moved_.

The man snapped around, pulled a shower head from the faucet at the sink and aimed. Water exploded forward, and suddenly Tsuna was drenched and soaking wet. He spluttered, half choking on a mouthful of cold water as it ran down his hair and his face. The Flames burning around his hands crackled, flickered, and finally fizzled out. Water couldn't put them out, not really, but the surprise of being sprayed in the face was enough of a shock to break through Tsuna's temper.

"Fuck me sideway with a _fucking fork_ ," the man barked. He aimed some more water at Tsuna's hands even though his Flames were gone. " _Shit_."

Tsuna stammered, "Wha- what –"

"Are you trying to attract the attention of every Flame Active in a ten-mile radius, you little punk? Are you that _dumb_?"

"F-flame Active?" Tsuna shivered violently, dripping cold water on the floor.

The man stared at him.

He picked up his phone, stabbed a finger at its screen, and shoved it back in his pocket.

" _Fucking mafia,_ " he cursed.

.

* * *

.

"I swear this is better than watching the cable. God, Ottone, what would I do without you in my life to keep things interesting?"

"Cut the bullshit –"

"I'd wither and die of _boredom_. So thank you, for keeping me alive and entertained."

"None of this is fucking funny!" Ottone – the testy man who'd attempted to drown Tsuna in _Little Trinci_ 's kitchen – snapped. " _Dammit_."

Undaunted, the blonde woman – _call me Cinzia, honey_ – let out a small snicker.

"Oh, but it _is,"_ she said, then deepened her voice to a surprisingly low baritone. " 'I want nothing to do with them. I'm done with eating their crap. The whole damn lot of them can go to hell. This is my line in the goddamn sand, and shit are gonna _fly_ if they cross it.'"

Ottone scowled, dark eyes glowering death at the woman. "Shut up," he bit out. "This isn't the time or place for being a smartass. Make yourself useful of get the fuck out of my way."

"Yes, yes." Cinzia waved a hand in front of her, looking entirely unbothered by the towering brute. "You're very scary and I'm quaking in my boots. But." She smirked. "I _told you so_."

Ottone snarled, teeth biting at empty air.

Cinzia cackled.

She pulled a stool from under the massive table at the center of the kitchen and said, "Go on. You've got calls to make, right?"

Ottone stood still for a moment, looming over her smaller frame as if to emphasize how aggravating this whole situation was.

Tsuna ducked his head, trying to stay unnoticed.

The man looked Very Annoyed, and being around adults who were so clearly displeased tended to end badly – especially when it involved people who had hands as big as diner plates and thick muscles cording their arms and shoulders.

Ottone didn't take a single step closer to Cinzia though.

He merely jerked his chin in Tsuna's direction and growled, "Make sure the brat doesn't burn down the goddam place."

"Aye, aye, sir," Cinzia saluted as she sat down. "Your desire is my will, always and forever."

"And why the fuck do I even bother with you?"

"For my charming personality, of course. And my stunning looks."

"It isn't for your brain, that's for damn sure.

"Hey!"

Ottone's glower reached an all high level of Pissed Off. "Shut. _Up_."

Cinzia smiled. Unlike Tsuna, she didn't seem worried about her continued survival. Her hands flew up in a clear sign of surrender, then mimed locking her lips together and throwing the invisible key away.

Ottone's eyebrows twitched.

He grunted, cast Tsuna one last look of deep irritation, and stalked out of the kitchen. The bright red door that lead into the front shop swung shut behind him.

Silence descended over the world like a heavy blanket. The hum of the refrigerators and electric appliances suddenly became twice as loud. The sound of traffic was muted, muffled by thick walls.

Tsuna held very still, clutching the edge of his blanket. Cinzia had wrapped it around him after she'd burst into the kitchen less than ten minutes ago. Ottone had still be cursing a blue streak, and Tsuna hadn't yet recovered from his near drowning when the blonde hurricane had swept into the room with all the elegance of a charging bull. Tsuna had almost went into cardiac arrest. And that was _before_ the woman had startled cackling like a maniac.

Cinzia stretched lazily. Glanced at Tsuna. And giggled.

Tsuna edged away.

"Don't worry." Cinzia pointed a finger in the direction Ottone had gone. "Ottone's just a grumpy old bear who's all bark and no bite. You're going to be fine."

Tsuna kept his lips sealed.

Cinzia side-eyed him, eyes glinting with curiosity. "How old are you, honey?"

Silence.

"Seven years old?

More silence.

"Eight? You can't be more than nine, right?"

Tsuna didn't say anything.

Cinzia waggled her eyebrows. "Oh, I see how it's going to be," she said. "Going for the whole tough-nut-to-crack thing, are we? Well, I've got news for you, buddy."

She leaned over, poked him in in the side, and Tsuna almost leaped out of his skin.

Cinzia grinned. "I'm stubborn as hell. And I can be _patient_."

That sounded dangerously like a threat.

Tsuna stiffened.

Instinctively, he glanced to the side. The way to the smaller door – the one leading to the narrow alley outside – was clear. Earlier, Ottone had blocked that exit with all his pacing and cursing, but now –

"Don't even think about it."

Tsuna startled, looking up.

Cinzia was staring at him, her chin resting over steepled fingers.

"You're staying right here until Ottone comes back," she said. Her tone was firm, confident, and brooked no argument.

Tsuna gaped.

How had she known –

Cinzia huffed. "Honey, you're a lot of things, but apparently subtle isn't one of them."

Which.

Alright, fair enough.

And also – _ouch_.

Her words hit the bullseye, ramming into a sore spot without even knowing it was there.

How many times had Nero told Tsuna his face was like an open book?

( _"Don't smile so much! It's creepy and it makes you look like an idiot!"_ )

Tsuna shut a mental lid on that memory, _hard_.

He flicked a look at the way out again, mind racing. For all of Cinzia's words, there were two stools separating them, and Tsuna could be _fast_. He had a chance, he could be out there before she caught him and then –

A hand bopped him on the nose.

"Stop it," Cinzia said lightly. "Whatever plan you're cooking up, it's not going to work."

Tsuna glared, pulling the blanket closer around his shoulders.

Cinzia's gaze softened. "Believe it or not, but we're keeping you here for your own good." She grimaced. "A little Sky like you? On the streets? Alone? That's not going to end well for _a lot_ of people."

A _Sky_.

That word again, and not used to describe the weather. Tsuna frowned. Once before, a boy had called him that, back in a place of fire and dead bodies and shattered walls.

(" _Oh. You're a Sky_.")

"What's a sky?" Tsuna asked.

Cinzia smiled smugly. "A- _ha_. He does talk!" A heavy pause. " _Wait_. You don't know?"

The list of things Tsuna didn't know was probably longer than either of them could fathom. And it was fine by him. Tsuna was willing to wait and learn.

But this – it sounded serious. It _felt_ serious.

Cinzia gave him an incredulous look. "You don't? But that's – that's –" She cut herself off. Took a deep breath. Pushed the half-full glass of milk toward Tsuna. "Drink."

He did.

"A Sky," Cinzia started, speaking slowly as if she were searching for the right words, "is precious. Something rare and treasured. Some people spend their lives waiting for one without ever getting a chance to Harmonize. You guys are like – like mafia VIPs on steroids."

That … didn't explain anything. _At all_.

Except for one crucial thing.

Tsuna blinked, his lips forming a small _oh_ of understanding. Relief flooded his system. Muscles that had grown tense with wariness loosened. He relaxed, just enough that it no longer felt like his spine would snap if he moved wrong.

A misunderstanding.

This was just one big misunderstanding.

Ottone's violent surprise, Cinzia's curiosity, even that boy's startled interest back then – it had all been caused by some sort of stupid mistake.

Because he wasn't a Sky.

Even though Tsuna still didn't know what a Sky _was_ , the description Cinzia had just provided made them sound very important. The kind of important that was protected and looked after, that didn't know what it was like to be cold and hungry, that hadn't once slept on the floor of a dark cell with a battered body and bloodstained clothes.

No.

Tsuna wasn't, had never been, and would never be, important.

And so he wasn't a Sky.

He just had to find his voice and _explain_.

"Are you okay?" Cinzia was watching him closely. "You're sort of looking constipated right now."

"I'm not a Sky," Tsuna blurted out, loud enough to be heard from across the street. He winced, wishing the floor would just open up and swallow him whole. "I'm not," he said again in a softer voice. "I'm really, _really_ not. So, um …"

So please let me go, he didn't quite manage to beg. Please. Don't make me go back.

Cinzia tilted her head to the side. "Honey, I promise you, you _are_ a Sky," she said dryly. "There's no mistake."

"But –"

"Your Flames," Cinzia cut him off. "You've got Sky Flames so strong and so pure that even poor little ol' me felt you from three floors upstairs."

Um.

What?

Tsuna's mouth dropped open. His fingers slackened, and the blanket fell in a heap on the floor.

But he didn't care.

Because this – this was about his Flames?

(His _monster_?)

No. Impossible. Not even mentioning the fact that it was the first time someone Outside had brought up Flames around Tsuna – this was impossible. It couldn't be right.

Cinzia took in Tsuna's stunned expression, and rubbed her forehead with two fingers. " _Baby Sky_ ," she muttered under her breath. " _Must not traumatize the baby Sky_."

Tsuna barely heard her. She had to be wrong. She _had_ to be.

His belly twisted. The pieces of pie he'd wolfed down earlier started to feel like lead in his stomach. Indignation filled him, a furious spark of dark resentment.

"Anyway." Cinzia straightened on her stool. "You're just going to have to trust me on this. Sooner or later, people are going to look for you – powerful mafiosos who won't stop, even if you bat those big Bambi eyes of yours at them and say pretty please."

It was unfair – so very _unfair_ – that even Outside, freedom still seemed like worlds away. Something distant. Unattainable and untouchable.

"By the way." Cinzia cast him a curious look, an intent gleam appearing in her eyes. "Was it your limit earlier?"

Tsuna gave her a blank look.

Cinzia clicked her tongue. "Earlier," she repeated. "Was it your Flames' limit? Or was there more you weren't letting out?"

For a moment, Tsuna didn't move, his brain grinding to a numb halt.

He thought of the voice in his head. Of a power so vast it felt like it had no beginning and no end. Of the way it had engulfed a body and kept coming even as it feasted on flesh and bones.

Tsuna had never completely let it out. He'd never _let go_.

Were the Flames that had erupted around his hands earlier the _limit_?

 _Ha_.

Not even close.

Cinzia was still staring expectantly at him.

Tsuna gave a tiny shake of his head.

The blonde let out a heavy breath. "Yeah, definitely not gonna be easy," she mumbled.

And the tiny spark of defiance that had ignited within Tsuna's chest suddenly flared into bright, hot-red anger.

"Why?" he asked, shaking. "Why are you saying that?"

This was Outside, dammit. This was his new beginning – _Nero's_ new beginning – and no one, absolutely _no one_ , was allowed to ruin his friend's dream.

Not even Tsuna himself.

Tsuna glared at Cinzia, feeling a familiar burn start in his eyes.

"I'm not a Sky, and I don't want people looking for me!"

Panic settled in, a dose of adrenaline rushing in its wake.

"I'll hide," Tsuna babbled, breathing hard. "I'll hide and no one will know and the – the _mafia_ – " Whatever _that_ was. " – won't find me and –"

"Tough luck," Cinzia cut him off, looking a little sheepish. "That ship has already sailed."

Tsuna paused, thrown off balance. "W-what?"

Cinzia pointed a finger toward the front shop. "The grumpy asshole over there?" she said. "That's Ottone Nougat, little brother of the Vongola Storm Guardian. And, really, you don't get any more _mafia_ than that."

.

* * *

.

Hi guys.

Here's chapter 4 of Hiraeth.

Thank you for the reviews, and see you next chapter :)


	6. Sorry

The old man with the wide-brimmed hat looked at Tsuna with sad eyes.

"Is he expected to make a full recovery?" he asked.

"Yeah." Ottone gave a stilted nod. "Eventually."

The doctor at the shady clinic had said so anyway. With rest and food and time, Tsuna would get better.

He just didn't understand why a whole lot of strangers suddenly cared about it.

Tsuna had spent the previous night at Ottone and Cinzia's place, both adults being deaf to his protests of _listen, just listen, you're wrong._ Cinzia had bullied him out of his dirty clothes, had dunked him in a tub filled with warm water, and had shoved him in a large bed.

And he'd slept.

As if he'd learned nothing. Like a trusting, suicidal idiot.

Morning had brought an avalanche of food, hot drinks and soft clothes. Plied with a full belly, he'd been lulled in a strange state of grogginess where time seemed to fly by. Daylight had started to dwindle without his notice, replaced by cloudy darkness far too soon.

He really should have tried harder to sneak away, Tsuna thought queasily. Especially when he'd been pushed in that car. Ottone had taken them out of the city, driving far into the countryside without stopping for a single break. He'd only killed the engine hours later, in front of a small house tucked at the end of a long driveway.

Three strangers had been waiting for them inside.

The oldest man was in his sixties, with a mustache and deep wrinkles around his eyes. He was sitting on a rickety chair, his hands wrapped around the top of a long cane. Ottone had greeted him with a terse " _Timoteo,_ " his voice carrying a hint of grudging respect, and that alone had been enough to make Tsuna pay close attention.

The second man, Coyote, was huge and easily towered over the rest of them. His shoulder-length hair was shaggy and brown, displaying a hint of grey around the sharp lines of a severe face. He looked like he could, and would, crush someone's skull without batting an eyelid.

And then there was Sawada. Blond hair, blue eyes. Tanned skin and big hands that were clenched into tight fists. He stood behind Timoteo, a little bit on the left, radiating the kind of tension that set people's teeth on edge.

Tsuna couldn't look away.

Yes, Coyote cut an impressive figure, and Timoteo gave off a sort of tired magnetism that was impossible to ignore, but for some reason it was Sawada that caught and held Tsuna's attention.

The man didn't look back, not once. His eyes were fixed on Ottone, steady and determined, as if one glance at the skinny kid gawking up at him could cause physical harm.

Tsuna stared, a trail of blurry memories whispering at the back of his mind, teasing him with its secrets and dancing around his grasping fingers like fluttering smoke.

"Good." Somewhere to the side, Timoteo let out a long sigh. "Given the current circumstances, I suppose that will have to be enough."

"Guess so." Ottone shrugged. "But you don't look real happy about it. Why?"

The old man flicked him a look.

"No party," Ottone pushed. "No feast to welcome the prodigal son home. Hell, someone should have rolled out a goddamn red carpet for the occasion."

Timoteo's fingers tightened around his cane. He frowned, and a subtle shift took place in the empty house. The dim lighting of the room flickered, as if something huge had just stretched in the shadows.

"Careful," Sawada murmured. "You're overstepping, Ottone."

That got him a grunt. "Because I'm asking uncomfortable questions? Questions that you, more than anyone else, should be asking right now?" Ottone snorted. "Bullshit."

Sawada twitched, like a flinch barely controlled. His eyes snapped down, collided with Tsuna's, and instantly jerked away.

"Yeah." Ottone laughed, short and bitter. "That's what I thought."

"You–"

"Gentlemen," Timoteo cut in. His voice was weary, low, but steady with the strength of untempered steel. "Let's stay focused on the matter at hand, shall we?"

"Sure." Ottone swept a hand toward Tsuna. "You wanted to see the brat. Here he is. Now what?"

There was a long pause.

Then, "We'll do what is necessary. As always."

Oh.

That… didn't sound good at all.

Did it?

Tsuna shuffled closer to Cinzia. She moved slightly, shifting so that he stood behind her. Which wasn't really reassuring. Tsuna wondered how likely he was to get caught if he made a run for the front door.

He stole another quick peek at Sawada.

And didn't move a single inch.

Timoteo was rubbing two fingers against his forehead. "Even you must have heard about it," he said. "The _Famiglia_ is just getting back on its feet."

"How is that even fucking relevant?"

"After what he's been through... The boy needs stability. Safety. We can't give that to him right now."

"Not you _,_ no. But Sawada should damn well be busting his ass to make it happen _._ "

"Fuck." Coyote suddenly stirred. He pinned Ottone with an exasperated glower. "For once in your life, Ottone, stop being a pain in the ass."

The effect of his words was immediate.

Ottone straightened, his eyes narrowed, and the air around him went from annoyed straight to aggressive. It was like someone had flipped a switch. Tsuna could almost see Ottone's hackles rising.

"You found the boy and called us," Coyote continued, ignoring the rising tension. "Thank you for that, but now we're good to handle it."

"You fuckers don't look like you're handling _shit_."

"Language," Coyote bit out. "And it's not like we've got a choice. You've just dumped an heir on our doorstep."

"We already have an heir," Sawada interrupted sharply, glaring.

"And now you've got a spare, too," Ottone shot back, whirling on the blond man. "Aren't you fucking lucky."

"Lucky?" Sawada seemed to choke on the word. " _Lucky_?"

"What? It's not like you shitheads have a great track record at keeping your kids safe." Ottone sneered. "Better to have one or two in reserve, right? You never know when they might come in handy."

Coyote snarled.

He took three long steps forward, one fist half raised behind him. Ottone watched him, hands held loosely at his side, an expression of grim anticipation on his face.

The warm body beside Tsuna vanished.

Cinzia suddenly materialized between the two men, shoving Coyote away, her back pressed into Ottone's chest, and snapped, "Don't _touch_ him _._ "

"Move," Ottone clipped, trying to push the woman aside.

Cinzia whirled on him. "Step back," she said. "Dammit, _step back_."

"Cinzia," Ottone growled, "get out of the way."

She grabbed his chin and jerked his head down. "Look at me, you idiot," she hissed. "This is not happening. We're not here to start a fight. Not even with your brother –"

"You haven't changed," Coyote said, his voice the deep rumble of a storm gathering on the horizon. "Even after all this time. Jesus, you're still the same."

Ottone leaned forward, his torso curving over Cinzia's shoulder. "You. Fucking. _Hypocrite_."

"I –"

" _Enough_."

Timoteo's voice cracked like a clap of thunder.

Everyone in the room froze.

Timoteo stood up, slowly, and it felt like something vast and ancient started to unfurl around him. "You're a friend, Ottone," he said. "Once, I even called you family." A heavy pause. "But you if you ever talk about my sons like that again, _I'll kill you_."

A wave of invisible Flames crashed into them all.

Tsuna staggered, throwing a hand in front of him.

The world wavered, twisted, rippling from gold into yellow before going back to gold again. Timoteo's Flames grew, expanding rapidly, dense and hungry.

"Do not," Timoteo continued, his voice like a naked blade glinting in the dark, "disrespect my sons' deaths in front of me."

Tsuna whimpered.

Pressure built in the air, a crushing weight that wanted him to bow. To yield. To kneel.

He lurched backward, aiming for the door.

Blind panic strangled him. Dread rotted in the pit of his belly. He'd never felt anything like this before. Those Flames, they weren't his – they _weren't_ – but still, they felt familiar. Like two pieces of the same puzzle that just wouldn't click. He could read them, feel them on a visceral level. Timoteo's Flames were angry, they were in pain, and they'd gleefully turn all that agony on any perceived threat.

It was too dangerous.

Screw Sawada and the voice's whispers and his curiosity.

He had to get out of there. Before Timoteo snapped, before he got _incinerated_ –

Tsuna tripped on Cinzia's leg.

The woman had collapsed to her hands and knees, staring straight ahead with wide and dazed eyes as she struggled to breathe. Behind her, Ottone was standing tall, though it looked like every muscle in his body had locked up.

Tsuna blinked at them, momentarily forgetting that he was supposed to be running for his life.

A bead of sweat trickled down the side of Cinzia's face. Ottone's complexion paled, the cords in his neck popping as he strained to stay on his feet.

Tsuna hesitated. He looked at the door, then back again at the two adults.

And he remembered.

A glass of milk and reassurances that everything would be alright. A gruff voice telling him to eat when starvation had been nipping at his heels. How terrifyingly nice it had been to talk to someone after weeks of silence, how warm that slim hand had felt when Cinzia had pulled a blanket around him.

Kindness.

For the first time since Nero.

Even if it was all for the wrong reasons, even if it turned out to be a misunderstanding in the end. They'd still cared enough to want to help.

And Tsuna?

He was scared, and lost, and a coward, but he was also very selfish. Something in him wanted to hold onto that kindness and never let go. Maybe it was why he hadn't left when he'd had the chance to, why he hadn't tried harder to slink away when logic had screamed at him to _go, just go_. The small part of him that had always yearned for acceptance, that had always craved and throbbed and _ached_ –

It watched Cinzia and Ottone, it saw them hurting _,_ and it bared its fangs.

( _Not again_.)

"Not again," Tsuna agreed.

The first step back was the hardest.

Then it got easier to move, to put one foot in front of the other until he was standing between Ottone and Cinzia.

Timoteo's eyes snapped to him, his eyes like burning chips of steel on a blank canvas wiped clean of emotion. Sawada and Coyote stood on either side of him. The two of them were pale, twin expressions of unease on their faces, but neither seemed to feel the brunt of their leader's temper.

Tsuna trembled.

"Y-you're hurting t-them."

They were nice to me, he didn't quite manage to force out. So stop. I don't like it.

Timoteo tilted his head to the side.

The pressure in the air doubled.

Ottone swayed. Cinzia let out a groan, sweat glistening on her skin.

Tsuna bit his lips, feeling tiny and weak and helpless.

Except.

He wasn't, was he?

Not really.

He looked inside. And reached for the monster burning there.

His Flames came roaring out, flooding the living room with a snarl. They crashed against Timoteo's Flames with a thunderous _bang_ , hard enough to shake the walls. Tsuna braced himself, both hands coming up on either side of him. He pushed, and was almost blasted off his feet when Timoteo pushed _back_. Heat rose in the air, searing and furious, and only the knowledge that people he wanted to help were behind him kept Tsuna from bolting.

Instead, he dug deeper inside.

His Flames poured out, invisible but strong enough to be touched. They coiled tightly around Cinzia and Ottone, like a protective dragon of fire guarding its hoard.

Timoteo's eyes narrowed.

A tendril of blistering Flames slashed through the air, whipping toward Ottone. Tsuna slapped it to the side, and the table on their right burst into fire. His monster snarled, stretched, then surged toward the old man.

And suddenly, horrifyingly, Tsuna was no longer fighting to keep someone else's Flames away from him – he started to struggle to keep his own _in_.

They bucked, a raging beast struggling against its leash.

Tsuna's knees hit the floor.

He wrapped his arms around himself, curling in a tight ball, panting and gasping as his Flames battered his mind. Too much. He'd let out too much, and now he couldn't – he _couldn't_ –

Someone cursed.

A hand landed on his shoulder, heavy and grounding.

"Calm down." Ottone's voice, brusque and slightly out of breath. "Calm the fuck down, brat."

Tsuna barely heard him.

All he could think about was how the last time he'd tried to use his Flames to protect someone, Nero had been swallowed by a wave of orange fire. He could still smell it, that acrid scent of burned skin and charred bones and hot ash drifting to the floor.

"Holy fuck," Coyote muttered from the other side of room. "Holy _fuck_."

"Nono!" Sawada barked.

Timoteo's Flames abruptly disappeared, vanishing between one heartbeat and the next.

Feeling his fire faltering at the sudden lack of threat, Tsuna scrambled to do the same.

From where she sat on the floor, Cinzia let out a choked laugh. "Did we tell you about his Flames?" she wheezed.

There was a beat of complete silence.

"You did," Sawada gritted out at last. "But you didn't mention _this_."

"Thought so." Cinzia stood up on shaky legs. "I guess … oops?"

 _Oops,_ Coyote mouthed, staring at her.

Tsuna wanted to tell them all to shut up and go away.

His head throbbed, as if someone had just swung a hammer at his skull, and he sort of felt like throwing up. His Flames had calmed down, though. Reluctantly, slowly, they bled out of the room and flowed back into his chest.

"There you go," Ottone muttered, patting his back once, twice. "That's it. Now take a deep breath."

He did.

Oxygen came easily, clearing his thoughts and soothing the burning in his lungs.

But – _ow_ – his head still hurt.

"Tsunayo – Tsuna."

Tsuna blinked.

Looked up.

Through bleary eyes, he saw that Timoteo was kneeling in front of him, his cane lying between them. He flinched, trying to crawl away, but Ottone's hand kept him right where he was.

"I apologize," the old man said, his tone gentle. "That was rather rude of me, wasn't it?"

There was no possible way to answer that question right.

Tsuna pressed his lips together.

Now that he was no longer fighting against his Flames for control, other worries started to creep up at the back of his mind. Like the fact that he'd just met for the first time someone who had Flames similar to his own. Or that he had basically launched a wild attack at that person, something no one _liked_.

"Come on," Ottone said. "Get off the damn floor."

Dazed, Tsuna felt himself be pulled to a standing position. His legs barely supported his weight.

"I'm sorry," Timoteo said again, this time to Ottone and Cinzia.

"Forget it." Ottone scowled. He rolled his shoulders, as if shaking off a bad cramp. "I was … out of bonds. I shouldn't have talked about your boys like that."

"No, you shouldn't have." Timoteo picked up his cane and stood up, too. A ripple of regret ran across his features "But that doesn't excuse my lack of control."

He looked back at Tsuna. The wrinkles around his eyes and mouth deepened.

"What you did just now was very brave," Timoteo murmured. "You would have made a splendid leader, Tsunayoshi."

Tsuna blinked again. Caught himself before he wobbled too far to the right and fell right on his face.

Ottone's voice went flat. "You're not taking him with you," he said.

Sawada closed his eyes.

"I'm not," Timoteo said.

Cinzia startled. "But," she started to protest.

"No," Timoteo cut her off, that edge of steel sliding back into his eyes as if it had never been gone. "Young lady, I've lost three sons to men that were both our enemies and allies. Massimo was killed because some people considered his very existence a threat to Federico's future as _Decimo_."

"But Tsuna's Flames," Cinzia sputtered. "He is so strong already. You've felt it. You can't just–"

Timoteo held up a hand. "Natsume will turn nine in a couple of months," he said. "That's too old to forget he was supposed to lead, too late to introduce another Decimo to the rest of the _Famiglia_."

"It doesn't have to be that way. Tsuna could be a support for the Decimo."

"Tsunayoshi was gone for years, years during which my men united behind a single heir because there was no one else, because it was the _only_ choice. And we are strong again, as we haven't been in years. I won't put that into jeopardy, not for anyone."

Cinzia stared at him, then at Sawada. "And you're okay with that?" she whispered.

A muscle jumped in Sawada's cheek. "The _Famiglia_ comes first."

"What about _your_ family?"

Timoteo brought down his cane on the floor, hard. "By law and by blood, I already have a successor," he said, and there was no missing the finality of that statement. "This will not change."

"Two heirs are better than one!"

"Maybe. But it would also bring dissension. Internal strife. Especially if we consider the twins' age." Timoteo shook his head. "I've seen what lies down this path."

"It's …" Cinzia glanced at Ottone and winced. "It's not fair."

"It rarely is." Timoteo gazed down at Tsuna with distant eyes. "Perhaps if things had been different from the start, if he'd never disappeared… but these thoughts are useless."

"Then that's it?" Ottone asked. "Your decision is made?"

"Yes." The old man straightened. "Tsunayoshi will be sent away. And let's hope he'll never have to see any of us again."

"He won't," Sawada vowed. "The boys will be safe. I'll see to it personally."

"Of course, you will." Timoteo nodded. "Now then, we've got some work to do." He clapped his hands and glanced at Coyote. "Let's get started. Coyote, I want you to –"

"Give him to me."

Ottone's voice stopped everyone in their tracks.

Tsuna looked up at the man, feeling strangely hollow.

Ottone didn't blink at the various expressions of surprise aimed his way. Only Cinzia didn't seem startled. Her mouth curved in a sad smile, one she hid behind a hand.

"I'm not a mafioso, not anymore, but I belonged to the _Famiglia_ long enough," Ottone continued. "I'll know what to watch for. And money – I'm not rolling in it, but I don't hurt for it either." He let out a sharp breath. "I can ... raise him well."

Sawada gaped. " _You?_ "

"Yeah," Ottone drawled. "Me. Not like it'll change anything for you who ends up saddled with the brat, right?"

"You can't simply decide –"

"I just did."

"But _why?_ "

"Because," Ottone growled, "I know what it's like to be thrown out of the _Famiglia_ for being an inconvenience."

Sawada cursed, abruptly snapping around to march to the other side of the room, his shoulders heaving with each breath.

Coyote threw an inscrutable look at the blond man before focusing on his brother. "I should have seen it coming," he said.

"Yes," Cinzia piped in. "That was kind of obvious, really."

Ottone scowled at them, then glared at Timoteo. "Well? What do you say?"

The old man watched him closely. "Are you sure about this?"

"No, I just like to spout out bullshit about adopting shitty little punks I picked off the fucking streets." Ottone crossed his arms over his chest and glowered death at the world. "Of course, I'm sure."

"Goddammit," Coyote snapped. "Mind your fucking language when you talk to Nono!"

The look of sheer incredulity Cinzia shot him flew right over his head.

"I think," Timoteo said, his lips quirking up at the corners, "that this might just work." He nodded to himself. "Yes, you can keep the boy, Ottone."

"Nono," Sawada whispered, face deathly pale.

Timoteo's expression softened. He shook his head.

"It's for the best, Iemitsu," he said. "For your boys and the _Famiglia_ both _._ "

For a moment, it looked like Sawada would protest. He opened his mouth, his face a mask of indecision.

And then he nodded.

And that.

That nod right there.

It flushed ice in Tsuna's veins and made something in his chest _crack_.

He blinked. Blindly reached for Cinzia's hand and held on as if it were a lifeline. The adults' conversation drowned on around him, but he couldn't really concentrate on it. He looked down at his feet, wondering why there was a ball the size of a small fist lodged in his throat.

But Sawada had nodded, which meant he agreed, which meant _yes, you can take him_.

( _I don't want him_.)

Timoteo's voice dragged him back to the present.

"I need a few moments alone with Tsunayoshi," he was saying. "You can wait outside."

Coyote immediately started for the door. The other three lingered, clearly hesitating, especially Sawada who appeared rooted to the spot.

Timoteo stared at them, hard. "This was not a request. Leave, now."

Cinzia bent down and whispered in Tsuna's ear, "We'll be right outside," before she hurried after Ottone as he stepped out.

Sawada trailed in their wake, the line of his shoulders rigid enough to snap. He paused in the doorframe, his silhouette dark against the outdoor lighting. "The Estraneo," he started.

Timoteo's eyes flashed. "Go. Take Visconti with you."

Sawada mumbled an affirmative. He walked out.

No backward glance. No goodbye.

Nothing.

Just the sight of a wide back moving away.

"Wait," Tsuna called out, the word tumbling out of his mouth before he could stop it. "Wait."

Sawada didn't stop, didn't look back. "Sorry," he muttered, then slammed the door shut.

Tsuna exhaled sharply.

He glanced down, expecting to see red and a blade sticking out of his chest. Because he'd just been stabbed, right? But there was no blood on his clothes. The shirt Cinzia had given him was still white, whole and unstained.

It was all very confused in his head, and he had only a vague memory –

(" _Aren't you glad to finally meet him after so long, Tsu-kun?")_

– and the unflinching certainty of his Flames to go on, but –

 _Oh_.

Tsuna stilled.

His Flames.

Maybe they were the reason why Sawada had left him. Maybe he knew about the monster hiding inside Tsuna. Maybe he'd seen the truth – that Tsuna was a killer. That he was broken.

The blade buried in his chest jerked, as if someone had just pushed and _twisted_.

"Don't blame him," Timoteo said.

Now that they were alone, the old man had allowed his back to drop slightly, bending under the weight of an invisible burden. For the first time since he'd arrived, Tsuna noticed the dark bags under those light brown eyes.

"If you must be angry at someone, then be angry at me, Tsunayoshi."

 _Tsunayoshi_.

He didn't know who that was. He'd never met that boy.

Tsuna could guess, though, because he was slowly accepting the fact that Cinzia and Ottone hadn't made a mistake after all – no matter how unlikely it was that he'd stumbled upon someone who happened to know his family.

"I have one question for you." Timoteo walked closer, leaning on his cane. "Ottone… how did you find him?"

 _How_?

Tsuna swallowed.

He didn't know.

His thoughts went back to that moment when Jenoah had come for him at the hospital. The guard had chased him and, as Tsuna ran away, a single thought had been ringing in his head. He'd wanted to escape, to hide, but above all else, he'd wanted to be _safe_.

And his Flames had grabbed onto that frantic wish, and they'd made it real.

Through an unknown city they'd guided him, all the way to the bus that had taken him far away from Jenoah. Even when Tsuna had wandered the dark streets of Outside, utterly lost and scared out of his mind, they'd always been there. Nudging, pulling, pushing. Perhaps it was a coincidence that Tsuna had ended up behind Ottone's bakery, perhaps it was not, perhaps his Flames had somehow _known_ – but one thing was clear. Without his Flames, Tsuna wouldn't have survived that first week Outside.

Feeling as if he were moving through thick water, Tsuna lifted a hand and tapped the side of his head.

"The voice," he rasped.

Timoteo nodded, as if that made perfect sense. "I see." And, as someone who also had a monster inside, maybe he did.

The old man went down on one knee in front of Tsuna. For a fraction of a second he seemed to waver. A strange expression flitted across his face, there and gone in the blink of an eye.

"I'm sorry," he said.

A chill abruptly ran down Tsuna's spine.

"What –"

Timoteo grabbed his shoulders, yanked him closer, and slapped a hand on Tsuna's forehead.

The world washed away under a wave of orange fire.

.

* * *

.

... thoughts?

Thanks for reading and the reviews (especially Ekourege and OperaEagle!) You guys are awesome.

See you next chapter.


	7. Monster

It took a long time for Tsuna to wake up.

He drifted, gently, slowly, floating among promises of silence and dreamless nights. Lethargy was a great weight in his limbs, one that called to him and tried to lull him back to sleep. He fought it. A niggling sensation – quiet and cold and _insistent_ – demanded that he opened his eyes.

He did.

A white ceiling loomed over him. It was pretty normal, all things considered. Smooth and even with a couple of fissures running across its paint. There was nothing special about it, nothing that could have explained the insidious feeling growing in his chest.

Tsuna pushed up to a sitting position. Blankets and covers pooled around him in a small mountain of cozy softness. A glance around revealed four walls and one large window. Blue curtains and a dark floor with matching pieces of furniture. Books stood in precarious piles beside the bed, leaning unsteadily to the side as if they were on the verge of collapsing.

Oh. Right.

Tsuna knew this place.

It was Cinzia's room, where he'd slept the night before they'd gone to meet ...

(" _If you must be angry at someone, then be angry at me, Tsunayoshi.")_

Panic slapped Tsuna, hard.

He instantly reached for his Flames.

And hit a wall of frosty ice.

 _What the –_

Tsuna reeled back, the blood draining from his face. He scrambled for answers, throwing a volley of rapid questions at the warm presence inside –

But.

There was nothing there.

Only darkness.

Silence.

 _Cold_.

The whispers were gone.

"No," Tsuna whispered.

Goosebumps bloomed all over his skin, and he wrapped his arms around himself. A string of disconnected memories started to surface in his mind, carrying images and sensations, sounds and scents.

He remembered angry voices. The heat of Flames slamming together. A blond man who had turned around and left without a backward glance.

And a hand.

Rushing toward him.

Smacking against his forehead as orange fire lashed out.

 _No!_

Tsuna bolted for the door. He flew off the bed, eyes on his target, and –

He tripped.

Lost his balance and crashed into a small night table. His arms flew wide and slammed into a pretty lamp. He tried to catch it, missed completely, and it shattered on the floor loudly enough to splinter eardrums. Glass and porcelain scattered everywhere. Little shards went sliding under a vanity desk and ended up peppered all over the thick carpet in front of the bed.

Tsuna collapsed on his hands and knees. He stared, frozen, his thoughts going entirely blank, and almost didn't notice when the bedroom door swung open.

Ottone strode in, only to stop dead in his tracks at the sight of Tsuna.

"God _dammit,_ " he gritted out.

Long legs quickly ate the space between them, and Tsuna abruptly found himself dangling in the air, carried to an armchair by the big hand that held the back of his sweater.

Ottone dumped him on a pile of plush pillows and stomped back to the doorway.

"Cinzia!" he shouted.

"Coming!" The woman appeared seconds later, arms full of clothes and bags swinging around her elbows. "Is he awake? Is he alright?" Her eyes landed on Tsuna. Whatever she saw on his face made her pale. "Oh."

Clothes and bags tumbled to the floor as she approached.

"Hey," she said quietly. "Doing okay?"

Tsuna didn't answer.

His teeth were chattering, and the tips of his fingers tingled as if he'd stuck them under cold water. Everything was slow, sluggish, coming to him from behind a screen of heavy smoke confusion.

No.

He wasn't _okay_.

"Yeah." Cinzia's lips thinned. "That's what I thought."

"He's cold," Ottone said from behind her.

"No kidding."

"I'm going to turn the heater on. You put more clothes on him."

"Got it. Come here, buddy."

Cinzia dragged Tsuna closer and proceeded to maneuver his limbs into another pajama bottoms, two more sweaters, and wrapped a scarf around his throat. Tsuna tried to struggle, but his arms and legs felt unsteady, like his whole body had become a big lump of uncoordinated clumsiness that just wouldn't work right.

By the time Cinzia had finished to pull another pair of thick socks on his feet – _here we go, you should start to feel better_ _soon_ – Ottone had come back and was sweeping the shards from the broken lamp in a dustpan.

"Don't worry about the lamp," Cinzia said, following Tsuna's eyes. "It was ugly and I didn't like it anyway."

"I did," Ottone muttered.

"Shut up." Cinzia hissed. Then she did a startled double take. "Well, damn."

That got her a narrow-eyed glance.

"You're holding a broom," she explained slowly.

" _And?"_

"And no one's been struck dead by lightning yet."

"Fuck you!"

Tsuna stared at the pair, their voices washing over him without really registering. He clutched the front of his chest, wishing he could reach under his ribs and claw at the gutting emptiness there.

 _So cold_.

As if someone had shoved a knife in his stomach to carve him open, as if they'd poured ice into his bloostream. It was like the ground had been swept from beneath his feet, like gravity itself had changed and shifted while he wasn't paying attention.

There was no blood or bruises on his body. Nothing was broken or sprained or twisted. He wasn't hurt.

Just damaged.

Tsuna sort of wanted to scream.

No, wait.

He _was_ screaming.

Cinzia flailed a little beside him. "Hey, hey, hey! Calm down!"

Tsuna dug at his throat, his fingers scratching and scraping with blunt nails. The ice was under his skin, it was _inside_ , somewhere no one had ever touched before, not the scientists, not Nero, and Tsuna –

He wanted.

It.

 _Out._

"For fuck's sake."

Big hands closed around his arms and gave a little shake. Ottone's face appeared, pale and tight.

"Stop with the dramatics," the man snapped. "You're safe."

He was.

What?

With ice on his breath? With silence ringing in his head? Screw that. Tsuna didn't feel safe. He stopped screaming though, if only because he'd used up all the air in his lungs.

"They're gone," he gasped, the word bubbling up from the pool of horror roiling in the pit of his belly. "My Flames, they're gone. I can't feel them anymore. They're gone, they're gone!"

Fix it, he wanted to beg. Fix _me_.

Ottone knelt down. His hands slid up Tsuna's arms and tightened around skinny shoulders.

"I know," he said. "It sucks and it hurts and you're scared as hell right now. I _know_. But I need you to hear me out, brat."

Dark eyes held him in firm staring contest, hard and resolute, and Tsuna found he didn't have the strength to look away.

"I promise you," Ottone continued, his voice a low rumble full of determination. "You're going to be fine. Cinzia and I, we'll look after you. You're not alone. We'll help. It'll be okay."

"But – but they're _gone_ ," Tsuna repeated, because the monster had just vanished and Ottone didn't seem to quite grasp the gravity of such a loss.

His Flames had always been so big. So strong. So angry. They'd felt indestructible, something overwhelming and unbeatable – and of course Tsuna had wished them to go away. Over and over and over again.

But not like this.

 _Never like this_.

"It'll get easier," Ottone said. "It'll get better."

Tsuna didn't believe him.

Not for a single second.

.

* * *

.

Time passed slowly, and nothing got any better or easier.

A layer of ice still covered the soft organs under his bones and no matter how many clothes he put on, no matter how many covers he used at night or how long he stood in the sun, Tsuna just couldn't get warm.

And he was always falling.

Standing up became something of a health hazard, as did walking around for more than couple of minutes at a time. He couldn't seem to put one foot in front of the other without stumbling, as if every step was a dangerous balancing act. His depth perception disappeared without warning, leaving in its wake a trail of shattered plates and broken objects.

Cinzia and Ottone took his sudden clumsiness in stride. The two of them never complained, never let on that he was a source of annoyance, that there would be _consequences_. They only helped to clean up the mess and moved on without a single remark.

Even when a batch of patisseries fresh out the oven lied scattered on the floor of _Little Trinci_ 's front shop.

"I gotta say, that was one hell of a dive," Cinzia said brightly. "But nothing's broken and you're not bleeding all over the place, so I'm still giving you a ten for style _and_ execution."

The tips of Tsuna's ears burned.

"Sorry," he muttered, fumbling with a couple of croissants.

Cinzia waved a dismissive hand in the air. "It's fine. Happens to everyone."

Everyone.

Right.

Tsuna wasn't sure, but he was willing to bet that not many people could trip on their own feet and slid across the floor until they hit a wall.

A small part of him, buried deep down in the back of his mind, cynically wondered how many times he could be forgiven for messing up their work. His blunders were increasing in numbers by the day. Cinzia and Ottone's patience should have been stretched thin by now. Anyone would be exasperated if they had to suffer the presence of a lumbering moron who couldn't cross a room without breaking something.

"You forgot one."

Cinzia suddenly reached toward Tsuna.

He flinched, instinctively recoiling from a guard's blow, from a wave of orange fire that would swallow the world.

Cinzia froze, hand held half-way to the croissant that had rolled by Tsuna's left ankle.

There was a beat of utter stillness, then she casually picked up the pastry, saying, "Maybe you should go back and see if Ottone needs help."

That was an excuse, an opportunity to escape and hide away before the first costumers started to come in.

Tsuna didn't care if that made him a coward – he unlocked his jaw and pushed out a tiny sound of agreement. "Hn."

They finished to pile the wasted pastries on a tray, and he hurried back to the kitchen through the double door.

Ottone – wearing a neon pink apron – looked up at his entrance. He flicked a quick glance at the tray Tsuna held, then turned away without a comment. He was kneading a small ball of dough, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showing the way his muscles shifted and rolled as he worked.

"Are your hands clean?"

A small shake of Tsuna's head.

"Then what the hell are you waiting for?"

Tsuna almost leaped forward in his haste to get to the sink. He washed his hands rigorously, meticulously, and went to join Ottone.

"Wait."

The man's voice stopped him.

Ottone jerked his chin at the table behind them.

"Take a look at today's paper first," he said.

The newspaper was folded next to a row of baking utensils. Tsuna picked it up. Letters sprawled out everywhere in dizzying formations, gathering at random to create words and sentences he couldn't even begin to decipher.

Nero hadn't had the time to teach him a lot, after all.

The thought burned like acid, and Tsuna tore his eyes away.

"I- I don't understand," he said, dreading the thought of failing a test.

Ottone stretched the ball of dough, pushing it downward and forward with the heel of a hand in one smooth stroke.

"Those places that were burned down to the ground," he said. "The mansions, the private properties – you see them?"

"Yes?"

"They all belong to the Estraneo."

Tsuna's fingers abruptly clenched around the newspaper. His attention went back to the front page. Several pictures displayed big buildings and houses going up in flames, smoke heavy and dark as it drifted up into the sky.

 _Estraneo_.

Tsuna knew that word.

It meant _Famiglia_ and dark cells, Jenoah and people in white coats.

"No one's looking for you anymore," Ottone continued. "No one's _left_ to look for you. They're gone." He pinned Tsuna with a hard look. "So now you can try to sleep at night for a change and stop looking like a damn zombie. Those bags under your eyes are starting to get fucking disturbing."

Tsuna blinked.

Opened his mouth and closed it.

He absently touched the bruise-like marks under his eyes as a strange buzzing sound started to fill the space around him .

"Right." Ottone nodded, once, then turned around. "Now come help me with those _baguettes_."

Tsuna did, moving on auto-pilot.

The rest of the day unfolded in a fog of frustrated distraction, but he managed to get through it without killing anything small or breakable. He kneaded dough and carried fresh batches of pastries to Cinzia. He scrubbed baking racks and work tables until his back was sore and his arms felt like they would fall off.

The bright afternoon light slowly died, turning darker and dimmer as night approached. Back in the front shop, the last costumer left and Cinzia briefly showed up to grab a mop and a bucket. Soon, the roller shutters were lowered, lights were turned off and they all trudged up the stairs to the small apartment above the bakery.

By the time dinner rolled around, Tsuna was ready.

They sat around the table in the dining-room, and questions fell from his lips as though they were poison.

Who.

When.

 _Why_.

Ottone answered without hesitation. He explained how two mafia _Famiglias_ had gone to war over the past couple of days, how the result had been a foregone conclusion from the start because very few _Famiglias_ in the underworld could ever hope to stand up to the Vongola, and the Estraneo had never been one of them.

Cinzia chimed in several times, to point out that the whole thing had been sparked by an accident in one of the Estraneo's bases, that some children had escaped, and that they'd been found by the police. Parents had been called, one of whom had been from the Vongola.

No one said anything about Tsuna's family, and maybe he should have asked anyway.

About Timoteo. About Sawada.

Except –

(" _Sorry," a blond man said as he closed the door_.)

– the words just wouldn't come out.

Cinzia grabbed Tsuna's hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

"The files they had on you were destroyed," she said. "No one will find you. No one will know."

Ottone's eyes were fierce as he added, "Don't worry about those assholes anymore."

Tsuna thought about a small cell and groups of faceless children. The cold kiss of a scalpel cutting his skin open and the burn of drugs running in his veins. Sick kids gone half-mad in the dark. White coats and charts and beeping machines.

Tsuna remembered a single chair sitting in a white room. He remembered Nero. He remembered _ashes_.

Ottone and Cinzia were still watching him. Distantly, he realized that they must have been waiting for a reaction.

Shock? Relief and tears?

Tsuna just felt empty.

And cold.

He was always so cold.

"Do you understand?" Cinzia asked. "Everything's fine now."

Tsuna could only watch her smile, and think, _liar_.

.

* * *

.

Once upon a time, there had been a monster inside Tsuna.

It used to burn, so warm and bright and fierce it'd felt like it would never die.

The Flames had always been there, right _there_ , flickering close to his heart like a second pulse. They were made of anger and _Will_ and lived deep down in his soul. He would close his eyes, fall and fall and fall, and then look up to stare at a swirling inferno that blazed hotter than a thousand sunrises.

And Tsuna – broken child holding the broken pieces of a broken star, little boy scared of the world and for the world – he had tried so hard to keep it all away from the surface. The Flames had provided protection, yes, but their strength had also been lethal.

And yet.

Now the monster was gone, buried under a layer of ice and frost that glistened like raw diamonds, unfelt and unseen and remote, and it was like there was nothing left of Tsuna's life but the charred heart of a dead volcano. He would close his eyes and be surrounded by darkness, an eternal night that knew neither the glittering of stars nor the warmth of daylight.

Tsuna took a deep breath.

He dreamed of standing alone in the middle of a barren landscape covered in ice. Maybe that was for the best. He would learn to live without fire and fangs.

After all, no one Outside could burn.

.

* * *

.

"No," Ottone said, then again with more bite. " _No_."

"Oh, for Christ's sake." Cinzia rolled her eyes so hard it looked physically painful. "What did you expect when you signed up to adopt a kid?"

"I don't remember signing any goddam papers!"

"Semantics? _That_ 's the card you're playing right now?"

Ottone scowled.

He crossed his arms over his chest and widened his stance, as if bracing himself for the charge of an enraged bull. Tsuna glanced at Cinzia. The woman certainly looked determined to flatten anyone stupid enough to stand in her way.

"I'm not going," Ottone repeated firmly.

"December." Cinzia sharply gestured at the window behind her, then pointed at Tsuna. "Little boy." She glared. "Stop being an ass, we're going Christmas shopping."

"No."

" _Yes_."

Ottone pulled in a long breath, looking like he were gearing up to fry Cinzia right where she stood with one scorching curse.

And Tsuna panicked.

"I don't mind not going," he cut in, his voice a rusty little creak. "I-It's fine!"

Cinzia startled, as if she'd forgotten he could talk – which was not exactly surprising, given that some days getting Tsuna to align more than two words together was like trying to pry teeth out of his mouth. Without anesthetics. And using a pair of old pliers.

She groaned. " _Tsuna_."

It only made him panic harder.

"R-really," he insisted. "I don't – I don't care about Christmas. We can just stay here, right? Please?"

He didn't even fully understand what Christmas was anyway.

From the numerous ads he'd seen on TV, it apparently involved an awful lot of gift wrapping, expensive foods, and crowds of people packed tight in tiny spaces. Even if Ottone hadn't looked angry enough to breathe fire every time it was mentioned around him, the whole thing still just seemed unnecessarily complicated.

Tsuna didn't like complicated. Or a pissed off Ottone.

Because what if it made the man reconsider and decide that Tsuna was too much trouble after all? What if he realized he'd taken in a walking disaster of a kid who kept breaking his things?

Tsuna had been living with Ottone and Cinzia for several months now. And it was nice.

He'd grown to enjoy Ottone's grouchy ways, how he would complain and glare and snap at everyone but always made sure that Tsuna helped himself to a second serving during lunch and dinner. Cinzia in general was an overwhelming force of nature, one that bullied him into nice sweaters and thick pants and comfy pajamas, and she could even coax a smile out of him even when the silence in his head became loud enough to make him _scream_.

They felt warm and real, like a pair of bright flames vibrant with colors, so different from the washed-up ghosts he'd grown up with. Tsuna didn't want to leave. He was terrified by the possibility of making a mistake and watching Cinzia and Ottone's backs as they walked away.

(" _Sorry_ ," _the blond man said without a second glance_.)

"I really don't mind," Tsuna whispered.

" _Ha_." Ottone threw Cinzia a triumphant look. "See? Even the brat doesn't want to go."

"Please." She put her hands on her hips with a huff. "Tsuna wouldn't ask for help even if he was sinking and drowning."

Ottone blinked.

He looked at Tsuna, thunder gathering on his brows.

Tsuna smiled back hesitantly. The expression felt wrong – his cheeks were sort of tight, and the corners of his mouth wouldn't stop trembling – but he kept trying because he'd recently concluded that people Outside smiled a lot when they wanted to defuse a tense situation.

Ottone stared.

Tsuna stared back, widening the tremulous curve of his mouth.

Which didn't get the expected result. According to Tsuna's observations, Ottone wasn't supposed to pinch the bridge of his nose and let out an explosive sigh.

Cinzia's pointed look of _see what I mean_ didn't help either.

Ottone swore. He whirled around and went to grab the coats hanging from the hooks by the front door.

"What are you doing?" Cinzia called happily.

"What does it look like?" Ottone snapped, throwing a green parka at her.

Cinzia snatched it mid-air. "Like I've just won this round," she said, radiating smugness. "Because I'm awesome and I'm always right."

"Don't smile so much," Ottone shot back. "You'll get wrinkles."

Cinzia's outraged squawk followed him as he walked back across the living room. He promptly pulled a blue coat around Tsuna and shoved a hat over his head.

Tsuna could only stand there, stiff and uncertain as he gaped at the man, wondering what part of the conversation he'd missed to bring about such a change.

"Where are we going?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

"Christmas. Shopping." Ottone growled, sounding as if each word was a personal insult. " _Shit_."

Yeah, that exactly.

Tsuna looked down, biting his lips.

Another mistake. Another failure.

Why couldn't he do anything _right_?

There was a pause above him. The heavy weight of eyes watching him.

Tsuna winced.

Dread bubbled in his belly. He needed to do better. To _be_ better.

Ottone buttoned up his own coat and grunted, "It's fine. Stop looking like I've just kicked your puppy." He turned toward the empty hallway stretching out behind the couch. "And what the hell are you doing anyway? You said you wanted to leave before traffic gets bad!"

"Don't be a jerk!" Cinzia yelled from the depth of the apartment. "Every lady needs a moment or two before she's ready to show her face to the world."

"I don't see any fucking lady in this place!"

Heavy stomping followed that declaration.

Cinzia appeared in the doorframe, eyes flashing. "Oh, you did _not_."

Ottone gave her a flat look.

Cinzia's nostrils flared.

The pair descended into another bout of squabbling and somehow, between one insult and the other, Tsuna found himself sitting at the back of Otton's car, hot air blasting in his face from the heating system.

They spent the rest of the day shopping for Christmas.

Tsuna found that he agreed with Ottone.

He would have preferred to stay home.

.

* * *

.

"Oh, God," Cinzia snickered. "You're so bad at this I feel like I should be crying."

Ottone, sitting on the edge of the couch, let out an annoyed growl. "It's not over yet."

"You're driving the wrong way, you idiot."

Ottone swore, jerking the controller violently to the right as if he were trying to punch someone in the face. On the TV, a sleek racing car crashed into a tree. There was a loud boom, an explosion of confetti, and a feminine voice announced a dramatic ' _Game Over_.'

"This game is shit." Disgusted, Ottone tossed the controller away.

Cinzia smirked. "Do you bow to the master?"

"Like hell – you're just a goddamn cheater."

"Wait." Cinzia suddenly leaned forward, staring. "Are you _pouting_?"

Ottone's glare could have melted iron.

Cinzia cackled. "You are!"

Tsuna sat a little to the side, watching the on-going feud with wariness. He was surrounded by heaps of bright colored gift wrappers that glittered and winked in the early morning light. Clothes, stuffed animals, and books with pictures were strewn all around him – Christmas presents that apparently belonged to him.

The sight of them made him slightly nauseous.

Christmas, Tsuna had concluded days ago, was an exhausting, scary, and completely inescapable tradition. He sort of wanted to sleep and not wake up until all the craziness had gone away.

"If you hadn't rammed into me to take that corner, I could have won!"

"Should have tried harder to avoid me, then." A long, taunting pause. "Old. Man."

"That's it." Ottone stabbed a finger at the television. "I want another game. And this time, I'll _crush_ you."

By that point, the pair was facing each other on either side of the coffee table. Cinzia's face was a mask of gloating satisfaction while Ottone looked like he was ready to throttle her with his bare hands.

They looked… ridiculous.

Like two friends having fun, perfectly content to lower their guards because they knew it was safe to do so. And despite all the offending words and the baiting and the squabbles – it was amusing to watch them.

Tsuna giggled.

The sound, soft and high-pitched, was so unexpected it almost startled him out of his own skin.

Cinzia and Ottone froze mid-argument. Their eyes swiveled in Tsuna's direction. He slapped a hand over his mouth, and stared back with wide eyes.

Adults usually didn't react very well when Tsuna laughed around them.

There was a beat of silence.

Then Cinzia blinked, and slowly turned back toward Ottone.

"Fine, let's do this," she said, flipping her hair over a shoulder. "But get ready to have your ass kicked again."

Ottone's glare came back full force. "Start bragging after you actually win."

Cinzia's lips curled into a lazy smile.

Another game was started, and soon the two of them were once more sitting on the couch, engaged in a virtual race that filled the living-room with the sounds of engines and screeching tires.

Cinzia jabbed her controlled at the screen, a look of intense concentration on her face, and Ottone had to duck to avoid a blow.

"Stop waving this shit around like it's a fucking machete," he snapped.

"It's working, isn't it?"

The race ended two minutes later, and Cinzia's won again without much difficulty. She beamed so hard Ottone had to turn away with a muttered curse.

"Want to try?" he asked Tsuna, waving the controller at him.

Tsuna hesitated.

Yes.

He wanted to.

It looked like fun.

Tsuna gave a tiny nod and was immediately hauled on the couch between Cinzia and Ottone. They showed him how the controller worked, how it made his car move in the game, what he had to do to win.

He still lost.

So badly that by the end of the day, he was laughing again.

No one said a word about it, but Cinzia's smile was wide and bright, and even Ottone's eyes had softened.

.

* * *

.

Once upon a time, there had been a monster inside Tsuna.

It used to talk to him, soft and loud and steady, and it'd felt like it would never stop.

The voice had always been there, right _there_ , a whisper fluttering around his mind like a guardian angel steering him in the right direction. It was made of colors and sensations that carried more meaning than words, more nuances than speech. He would close his eyes, listen and listen and listen, and sometimes he would get to hear some of the secrets the universe loved to keep for its own.

And Tsuna – little ghost haunting the walls of a haunted cell, afraid and hopeful and angry all at once as his body became the toy of giant puppeteers – he had latched onto the voice and refused to let go. The Flames had scared him, yes, but their whispers had kept him sane.

And yet.

Now the monster was gone, muffled by a layer of ice and frost that was as hard as titanium, unheard and unseen and remote, and it felt like the emptiness in Tsuna's head had become loud enough to kill. He would close his eyes and waver on the cutting edge of a great abyss, inches away from the fall.

Tsuna let out a sharp breath.

He dreamed of standing alone in the dark, surrounded by complete stillness and icy silence. Perhaps that was for the best. He could learn to live without the reassuring presence of a sixth sense.

After all, no one Outside had voices in their heads.

.

* * *

.

Tsuna gaped.

Large stands full of perishables stretched far on either side of him. Fruits spilled out of their cases, colorful and so numerous he couldn't even start to count them. Vegetables winked at him from their boxes, bright and cheerful as people's hands drifted over them.

Tsuna clutched Cinzia's hand in a white-knuckled grip.

It was his first time going to an open-air market and so far the whole experience was staggering.

There were just too many people.

Talking, shouting, laughing. Hurrying from stalls to stalls, dragging shopping baskets behind them, carrying heavy bags overflowing with fresh breads and bottles of wine. Local farmers yelled, competing against each other in the hope of attracting more customers and it only added to the bustle-and-hustle atmosphere.

It was overwhelming.

Tsuna looked around him and tried to keep his knees from knocking together. He felt the same astonishment that filled him each time he went grocery shopping with Cinzia and Ottone.

How could there be so much food in the world? And how could it be gathered in one place?

"Come on," Cinzia said from beside him, sounding very far away. "Let's go."

She dragged him down different aisles, easily dancing around the stream of people. Cinzia was in her element as she paid for her purchases – honey and jams and oranges and lettuces. She reminded Tsuna a little of an overactive bee buzzing from flower to flower as it gathered pollen. He could only hang on for dear life and hope he wouldn't be swallowed by the crowd.

"Okay." An eternity later, Cinzia carefully placed in her bags a big wedge of cheese wrapped in paper and peered at her shopping list. She nodded. "I think we're good. One last stop and we can go home."

Sweeter words had never been spoken.

Tsuna almost went boneless with relief. The end of the nightmare was in sight.

Cinzia came to a stop in front of a butcher stand at the back of the market. One of the ladies working behind the display case greeted them.

"Hey, guys. What can I get you?"

Cinzia's hand suddenly dropped on Tsuna's shoulder and pushed him forward. "You do it," she whispered. "Go on."

What.

Tsuna froze, abruptly feeling as if he'd been brought to the center of some unknown stage, naked and utterly unprepared.

The stall-keeper smiled at him.

Tsuna almost melted in a puddle of stark terror.

He started to shake. Icy fingers crept up his chest, his throat. They tightened like a noose that slowly strangled him. He couldn't move. He couldn't _breathe_.

Cinzia prodded his back with a finger. "Buddy?"

He looked up, dazed, and met narrowed blue eyes. Cinzia was frowning at him, her previous grin gone.

And Tsuna _hated_ it.

He hated to see her worried for him, hated that leaving _Little Trinci_ made him sick to his stomach, that even after months and months spent Outside, he still couldn't handle an unexpected conversation with a stranger.

Tsuna forced his attention back on the stall-keeper. The woman was still smiling. Cold sweat ran down his back.

Say it, he thought fiercely, mentally prying the icy fingers from around his throat. Just say it.

He knew what Cinzia wanted to buy, had helped her to write that damn list. But his mind was a whirl of disjointed impressions that barely made any sense at all, and for some reason only the word _tamago_ rose from its depth, again and again and again.

Cinzia's hold on his shoulder was tightening. She started to pull him closer to her side. Worry and guilt radiating off her in thick waves, and the idea of failing – of being a _burden_ – finally gave Tsuna the extra push he needed to act.

He cast a wild look around him, was hit by a burst of genius inspiration, and pointed at a featherless chicken.

"I-I want to buy its babies!" he blurted.

The lady paused. "Its… babies?"

"To cook them," Tsuna squeaked out. "In a cake?"

That got him a blink.

Behind him, Cinzia let out a choking sound.

"We'd like to buy a dozen eggs," she quickly cut in. "Please."

Tsuna looked up at her.

She glanced at him, snorted, then firmly pressed her lips together and managed to hold it together as she paid for the eggs. They went back to the car, put everything in the trunk, and got ready for the trip back home.

Cinzia started snickering the moment she sat behind the wheel, and didn't stop as she pulled out of the parking lot and drove back to _Little Trinci_. Tears were running down her cheeks by the time they walked through the bakery's back door and climbed the stairs to the apartment above.

"Ottone!" she called, dropping the shopping bags on the table in the dining room. "Where are you?"

"Shut the fuck up, I'm busy!"

"But you've got to listen to this!"

Chortling, she skipped down the hallways toward the bedrooms.

Tsuna buried his face in his hands.

.

* * *

.

Once or twice a month, Tsuna felt like he was being watched.

It was not the same sensation he'd had before Timoteo had put ice under his skin, that electrifying spike of alarm which had told him exactly where, and who, and why. The feeling was different now. Subtler. Fainter. More uncertain. Like the sudden sense of unease that would trickle down his spine as he walked passed an open window, or the goosebumps that abruptly appeared when he went out with Ottone or Cinzia.

And he saw them.

Sometimes. If he was fast enough.

A dark suit disappearing around a corner. A silhouette melting back into a crowed street. Shadows moving around him.

Like right now.

Tsuna glanced up sharply.

The people walking by _Little Trinci_ paid him no attention as he stared suspiciously at them. Adults looked down at smartphones as they moved, and children chattered and bounced around like little balls of loud enthusiasm.

Tsuna frowned.

"Let it go," Ottone said from behind him.

The man was dragging down the roller shutters for the night. Tsuna was in charge of sweeping the sidewalk in front _Little Trinci_ – well. He was mostly trying not to impale himself on the broom handle. Cleaning was really just a bonus.

"Ignore them," Ottone said, locking the shutters. He gave the metal grate a shake then stood up. "They'll go away soon enough."

They, who? Tsuna almost asked, but as always the words remained stuck in his throat.

In his mind, for maybe the thousandth time, he watched a wide back walk away.

 _("Sorry," the big man said as a door swung shut in his wake._ )

Tsuna scowled, turning his attention back onto his task. He vigorously swept a couple of cigarette butts away, as if each swing could banish the man's voice from his head.

Then he somehow slipped on the completely dry pavement, lost his balance, and fell flat on his nose.

 _Ow_.

Ottone laughed.

.

* * *

.

Another Christmas passed, then spring and summer.

Tsuna had been living with Ottone and Cinzia for more than two years now, and somewhere along the line he'd turned eleven.

Which, according to the adults in his life, meant middle school.

They had taught him his letters and numbers as best as they could, and Tsuna had thrown himself into learning with the hard-minded focus of someone who'd been denied knowledge all his life. The whole process had been nice, involving fountains pens and bright-colored pencils instead of the dry reports of scientists measuring the growth of his Flames.

So.

Apparently, Tsuna was going to be a student.

Cinzia enrolled him in a nearby school, claiming it was located in a calm neighborhood with good kids and competent teachers and nice buildings.

He was going to meet so many people, she'd said. It was going to be great.

(" _He needs friends,"_ Tsuna had heard her say one night while he hid behind a half-closed door. " _To be with children his age and to make bonds. He's a Sky. He_ needs _it. That fucking seal can't change that._ ")

And reluctantly, cautiously, Tsuna was forced to admit that though she hadn't been completely right, Cinzia wasn't really wrong either.

School wasn't the unmitigated disaster Tsuna had envisioned.

Except for PE classes. Those were hell.

His teacher was _crying_ by the end of the year.

.

* * *

.

The man's long strides were quickly carrying him down the street.

He was rather small, wore a non-descript black suit and tie, but his curly blond hair was distinct enough to be recognized even among the flow of pedestrians. He paused at a crosswalk, waited for the light to turn green, then headed South and away from the downtown area.

Tsuna hurried after the stranger, his heart beating like a hammer in his chest.

What was he doing? he thought half-hysterically as he darted behind a parked car and peeked over its trunk.

No, seriously.

What _the hell_ was he doing?

Another street. Another crosswalk. A turn and they entered a small alley that spiraled deep into the bowels of a decidedly not nice neighborhood.

Tsuna licked his lips nervously.

He should have ignored the shivers running down his back that had betrayed someone's eyes on him. Should have kept his head down and continued on his way to _Little Trinci_. He'd grown used to it over the years – to the random moments where strangers would hide close by and observe him for an hour or two.

But not this time.

Tsuna didn't know why, but no.

Not. This. Time.

Something had made him react, had made him look up and turn around – and the hunter had become the prey.

The city around them grew quiet. Pieces of broken glass started to litter the ground as the sidewalk turned smaller. An acrid smell rose in the air, that of saturated sewer and old trash bags. It was getting late. Tsuna tried not to wince at the thought of Ottone and Cinzia waiting for him at home. They would have _words_ for him and his little escapade.

The man suddenly entered a parking lot. It was empty, except for a black SUV parked under the flickering light of an old lamppost.

Tsuna ducked behind a rusting dumpster and crept forward until he was crouching beside an old truck. He risked a glance around its side. And abruptly froze.

The back door of the SUV had swung open and a tall man had unfolded from its seat.

Blond hair and tanned skin. Blue eyes and a light stubble.

 _Sawada_.

Tsuna jerked back, his jaw locked, hands balling into tight fists.

It felt – it felt like falling. Sort of. Like plummeting directly into the frozen depths inside and discovering that it wasn't empty after all. That beside the ice and the silence, there was something else there.

Something dark and vicious and _angry_.

"Sir." The man who'd followed Tsuna around bowed his head in greeting.

He handed out a thin file. Sawada snatched it and scanned the first few pages of the report.

"Is that all you've got for me?"

The smaller man gave him a phone. "With all due respect, sir," he said. "There was no need for you to come all the way here from headquarter. Nothing out the ordinary happened and –"

Sawada _glared_.

The other man's voice died mid-sentence. He ducked his head down, shoulders hunching. Sawada stared at him for a moment longer, then focused on the phone in his hands. He slid a finger over the smooth screen, as if flipping through a series of pictures.

Tsuna's eyes narrowed. He had a pretty good idea about whose pictures had been taken. The edge of his vision started to darken, tinted with a hint of red as outrage spread in his veins.

Sawada had said _sorry,_ hadn't he?

He'd said sorry, and he'd turned around, and he'd walked away.

 _("Sorry," said the blond man before closing the door.)_

So he had no right, no right _at all,_ to be in that parking lot and to look at those pictures.

The feeling in Tsuna's chest swelled. It made him want to growl, to hiss, to lash out – and suddenly, out of nowhere, a realization hit him like a bucket of frozen water in the face.

Because.

Once upon a time, there had been a monster inside Tsuna, right?

He used to think it was made of hate and fire and ghostly voices that lived deep down in his bones.

It had always been there, right _there_ , a blazing fire struggling to unleash its hurt and wrath upon anything that breathed. He would squeeze his eyes shut and be faced with a choice, _let go_ and _let me out_ and _let me burn_ , and no one would ever know how close he'd come to stop fighting, to give up and watch as the end of the world came with the roar of orange Flames.

Tsuna took a small step back.

Somehow, the movement was enough to draw Sawada's attention and Tsuna – lonely boy who'd thought _no_ and _please_ and _wait_ as he was left behind by someone that should have cared – he suddenly understood that he'd been wrong all along.

His Flames may had been sealed under a layer of ice and frost, unseen and untouchable and forever out of reach, but the monster had never been shut away. It had just gone to sleep, content to hunker down and bid its time as Tsuna bloomed under Ottone and Cinzia's care.

Sawada's eyes collided with Tsuna's. The man's lips parted. He blinked. Swayed forward.

"Tsuna," he said, and his voice was strangely hoarse. " _Tsuna_."

Tsuna's lips pulled back over his teeth, like a striking serpent baring its fang. He glared, watching his father in the dim light of weak electricity, and shook with the need to hurt him. To make Sawada feel even an inch of what Tsuna had been through, was _still_ going through.

Oh, yes, he'd been wrong. The monster had never been in his Flames. The hate and rage came from _him_.

Tsuna turned around and took off.

Somewhere deep inside, there was a _crack_ , and fissures spread across the surface of smooth ice.

.

* * *

.

And here's chapter 6. Kinda hard to write.

It was great to read all of your reactions last chapter. I didn't expect that many of you to be so annoyed with Timoteo and Iemitsu. I, huh, just tried to keep their responses to Tsuna's reappearance realistic?

See you next chapter.


	8. Sparks

Tsuna was twelve years old and he was plotting murder.

Rain fell heavily outside. The pitter-patter of fat drops of water hitting the windows was loud and never-ending, a constant reminder that the bad weather hadn't let up in days.

Tsuna didn't care, and neither did Ottone or Cinzia. They were all sprawled on the couch, controllers in hands and feet propped up on the coffee table. A box of donuts laid open between them, surrounded by half a dozen bags of candies.

"Stop jumping around," Ottone muttered, eyes glued to the TV.

"And what?" Cinzia retorted. "Just wait around for you to shoot me dead like an idiot?"

Seeing the two of them focused on each other, Tsuna carefully pushed a couple of buttons on his controller. He brought his character around the ruins of an abandoned building and made the little soldier creep along a collapsed wall.

Do it, he thought. Hurry up and do it.

This was his shot at revenge, his chance to right all the wrongs done to him over the years.

 _Just. Do it._

Tsuna abruptly went on the offensive. He launched a couple of grenades, fired a round of bullets and –

His target whirled around. There was an explosion, followed by a deafening series of _ra-tat-tat_ as a machine gun opened fire. Tsuna's screen winked out with a shower of cheerful sparkles. He'd lost.

"Brat." Without looking away from the game, Ottone reached over and cuffed Tsuna on the back of his head. "It's ten years too early for you to ambush me."

Then his own half of the screen went up in flames as Cinzia gunned him down from the other side of the street.

"Yes!" She let out a triumphant whoop. " _That'_ s how you do it."

Tsuna and Ottone could only stare.

She cackled. "You're both adorable. I love to squash you like juicy little bugs."

Ottone immediately demanded another game, even though it would only result in a series of crushing defeats that would have him grumbling about _fucking cheaters_ for the rest of the day _._

"No thanks." Cinzia lounged on the couch. "I'm just going to enjoy being awesome for a while."

Ottone twitched. "Fine," he clipped, glancing at Tsuna. "It's just you and me, then."

"O-okay." Tsuna gave a determined nod and squared his shoulders. "I'll do my best."

It quickly became apparent that his best wasn't nearly enough. No matter how hard Tsuna tried to blow up his opponent, he never quite succeeded. It was very frustrating.

"Come on," Cinzia said from the sideline three minutes later. "You've got this, you can do it – secure the perimeter, now!"

"I'm _trying_ ," Tsuna said, exasperated.

A weight landed on his back. He let out a wheezing sound as Cinzia wrapped her arms around him.

"On your right," she hissed. " _On your right._ "

Tsuna jerked his controller forward and narrowly ducked under a stray missile.

"You're heavy," he complained. "Go away."

"Look out, he's coming!"

Ottone fired at Tsuna. His health bar took a dramatic hit.

Cinzia mumbled under her breath, " _Why, you little –"_ then aimed a kick at Ottone. It landed on his hip and almost shoved him right off the couch.

Tsuna stabbed a button. His opponent dropped dead. Ottone blinked at the TV, once, twice, before giving them an incredulous look.

"Did you kick me?"

"I was just helping Tsuna."

"He's old enough, we don't need to let him win on purpose anymore!"

"You've never let me win," Tsuna interrupted, thinking back to the various ways he'd been virtually murdered over the years. " _Ever_."

"Shut up," Ottone snapped. "It builds character."

"And you're stalling." Cinzia put a hand on her stomach. It let out a loud ramble. "You've lost twice in a row, so go get the damn pizzas already. That was the deal."

"Grilled chicken for me," Tsuna quickly added with a bright smile.

Cinzia raised a hand. "I want the classic pepperoni. The big one. With lots of cheese."

Ottone glowered at them for a moment, as if he were seriously considering homicide.

"You little shits are eating anchovies, and that's it," he grunted.

Cries of protest immediately erupted.

"Wait!"

.

* * *

.

Tsuna was dreaming.

Sort of.

Everything hung in eerie stillness around him, dark and devoid of any warmth. The air was so cold it hurt to breathe, as if tiny needles were mercilessly prodding and poking at the softness under his ribs.

Tsuna squatted down on the ice.

His toes brushed the jagged edge of a crack that ran across the landscape like a long and ugly scar. Was it larger than when it'd appeared the previous year? A glance around revealed more crevices. They had certainly multiplied over the last few months, like a spider web spreading out in all directions.

Tsuna cautiously peered down into the abyss. It betrayed no hint of the Flames that had once burned there, no sign of the heat and fire that had seemed huge enough to consume him. That was fine. Tsuna knew better than to expect anything else. He blew out a sharp breath, telling himself that the tightness in his throat was from relief.

Still, it would be nice to wake up now. There was nothing for him in those dreams, nothing but ice and silence.

And.

A spark of Flames.

Tsuna froze.

A flicker of orange slowly floated in front of him, shining in the dark, warm and familiar and so very fragile.

It shouldn't have been possible. The ice had killed his Flames. They were gone.

So how –

Tsuna _lunged_.

He reached for the spark, and it winked out of existence right before he could touch it. His hands lashed out, far too slow and clumsy, and he ended up clawed at empty air, blunt nails biting into his palms. Tsuna could have screamed out of sheer frustration. He whirled around, frantic, searching for another trace of orange fire.

There was none.

Could he have seen wrong? Imagined the whole thing?

Tsuna crept closer to the nearest crack and looked down again.

Darkness. Frost. Silence.

He stared harder and – _there_.

So far down below that he almost missed it, something was glowing faintly. Tsuna squinted, and the light seemed to grow brighter in response. A distant roar filled his ears, like the sound of fire leaping higher as it reached for the sky, like Flames burning hotter and wilder as they struggled to be heard.

( _Destroy-the-ice!_ )

Tsuna startled. Slipped and hit the back of his head on a hard surface. There was a burst of pain behind his eyelids, a dizzying moment of disorientation.

He jerked awake.

Half blind, Tsuna dove for the lamp on his night table. Light flooded the world, revealing a familiar bedroom. He grabbed his blankets and retreated to the middle of the bed, wrapping himself in a warm cocoon. It took a long time for his heartbeat to slow down, for his shaking to stop.

Tsuna was thirteen and he'd never forgotten about the monsters hiding in the dark.

.

* * *

.

The group of Asian people scrambled down the street, a buzz of excited conversation trailing after them, strange and foreign but oddly fascinating.

Tsuna followed warily.

Another fire-rapid exchange of unintelligible words reached his ears, a mess of _isoide_ and _kaachan_ and _chotto_ - _matte_.

Strangely enough, it felt like he should have understood. Like he should have _known_.

Memories teased him, fluttering just out of reach. If he closed his eyes, he could almost hear a woman talking, someone he'd called _mama_ a thousand years ago. A sensation of craving bloomed in his chest, and Tsuna grabbed it in a stranglehold and refused to let go.

He burst into _Little Trinci's_ kitchen ten minutes later, yelling, "I want to learn Chinese!"

His exuberant declaration was followed by a moment of ringing silence.

Ottone slowly looked up from where he was putting the meringue topping on a lemon pie. He frowned. The expression froze Tsuna dead in his tracks as if he'd stepped onto fresh concrete.

"I-I mean," he stuttered. "P-please?"

"You've got money I don't know about?" Ottone asked flatly. "Because private lessons are expensive."

Oh.

Right. Of course.

Tsuna's whole fortune amounted to exactly _nothing_. His grand plan of being bilingual by the end of the year crashed and crumbled to dust in less than a second.

He looked down. "I don't," he mumbled unhappily.

Ottone's snort said how impressed he was with that answer.

Tsuna fidgeted, wanting to negociate, to bargain and _beg_ , because having to give up on that tiny link to Before made him nauseous.

But he didn't.

He couldn't.

Don't ask for too much, a voice whispered in his ears. Or they'll leave you. They'll make you go away.

Tsuna took in a shaky breath and stayed silent.

Ottone sighed. "Come here," he called.

Tsuna peeked at him through his bangs.

"Now," Ottone barked, and Tsuna scrambled around the table work.

It took them a couple of minutes to figure out where the tourists from earlier had come from – _not_ from China – and Ottone ended up paying a tutor three times a week.

Tsuna was thirteen and his head was full of memories.

.

* * *

.

There was a man sitting on the floor of _Little Trinci_ 's front shop.

No, wait.

That wasn't the important part.

There was a man sitting on the floor of _Little Trinci_ 's front shop and he was bleeding all over the place from a wound in his mid-section.

Tsuna gaped.

The stranger wore a black suit, torn and soaked through with crimson, and there was a gun glinting ominously on his lap. A teenager was fussing over him, apparently unconcerned with the weapon as he pressed a dishtowel against the man's side.

"Stop moving," the boy snapped.

"Worried, Lucio?"

"Dream on, old man."

A strangled sound erupted from Tsuna's throat.

The teen looked up. Paused.

"Who –" he started, only to be interrupted by heavy footsteps.

The kitchen door swung open and Ottone appeared, looking very pissed off and ready to take out bystanders with a teaspoon.

His eyes landed on Tsuna. He scowled. "What are you doing here?"

Tsuna was kind of asking himself the same question.

Why – seriously, _why_ – hadn't he stayed in bed?

"I ... heard people talking."

A muscle jumped in Ottone's jaw. "I told the asshole to keep quiet," he growled, coming to a stop in front of the wounded man. He nudged him with the tip of a foot. "Hey. You still alive?"

The man stirred. "Fuck you. I haven't kicked the bucket yet."

"Figured as much." Ottone sat down against the wall. "I've just made the call. They'll come to pick you up in five."

"Thanks."

"Don't thank me. The bills for cleaning all those bloodstains aren't gonna be cheap."

"Bastard."

"Go to hell."

Tsuna blinked.

Fighting was good. Wasn't it?

If the man had the energy to argue with Ottone like an old married couple, then surely he wasn't too badly injured –

The teenager shifted to the side.

A glimpse of red-covered skin was revealed. There was also a hole. A tiny, dark, and very suspicious-looking hole.

"Is that a bullet wound?" Tsuna asked, his voice two octaves higher than normal.

Ottone poked at the man's belly. "It's fine," he said. "No artery was hit, and the bleeding has almost stopped. You'll be alright."

"Screw that. It hurts like hell." The man batted the offending finger away with a grimace. He jerked his head in Tsuna's direction. "Who is he anyway?"

"My brat," Ottone answered, and even with a stranger half dying in _Little Trinci_ , even years and years later, Tsuna still felt a little thrill running down his spine at those words – a claim and a fact all rolled up into a simple declaration. No pause, no hesitation. Just, _my brat_.

"Hmm." The man eyed Tsuna curiously, his face deathly pale in the dim light of the lampposts outside. "Kid doesn't look too bad." A smirk. "Didn't get your ugly mug – _ow!_ "

Ottone wiped his bloody finger on his pants. "Stop whining like a little bitch, Lorenzo."

"It hurt, asshole!"

"Still whining."

" _Fuck. You_."

And the bickering started again.

Which was fine.

Whatever.

If the man wasn't going to panic about his wounds, then neither was Tsuna. He turned around and kind of floated to the nearest chair. He collapsed on it, feeling a little light-headed.

For the most part, Ottone and Cinzia lived like regular civilians. They worked and paid their taxes, traveled during the summer holidays and enjoyed watching some TV before going to bed at night. There was nothing in their daily routine that could link them to the like of Sawada or Timoteo. Tonight was the first time anything out of the ordinary had happened in six years.

It was a little terrifying.

The man – Lorenzo – let out a groan.

"Can I help?" Tsuna asked. "Get you anything?"

Watching someone leaking blood all over the floor was starting to feel awkward.

"Ha." Lorenzo let out a snort. "Cute, kid."

"Help's on the way." Ottone waved Tsuna's offer away. "You can go back to bed."

As if sleep was even remotely possible.

Tsuna didn't move and Ottone didn't make him leave.

Time slowly ticked by. More often than not, Tsuna found himself glancing at the clock above the register machine. A small part of his brain idly wondered why no one was calling an ambulance. Someone had been shot, hadn't they? By all right, _Little Trinci_ should have been teeming with paramedics and cops demanding to know where, and when, and who.

Tsuna easily dismissed the thought. It had been years, but he still remembered what words like mafia and _Famiglias_ meant. Secrecy. Isolation. Conflicts resolved with fire and gunpowder, away from daylight and civilian laws. Tsuna knew all about it. He still had the scars.

"Hey.

A shadow suddenly fell over him. Tsuna looked up, his mind snapping back to the present.

The teenager stood in front of him, a thoughtful frown on his face. "What's your name?" he asked.

Tsuna stuttered out an answer, noting that the boy was pretty tall, with black curly hair and dark eyes. His skin was pale, though it had a healthy glow that hinted at a darker suntan during summer.

Tsuna scrambled for a name. "And you're, huh… Emmanuel?"

The teenager gave him a flat look. "Lucio."

Tsuna flushed, because of course he'd get that wrong.

Without waiting for an invitation, Lucio dragged a chair over and sat down. For a moment, neither of them talked as they watched Ottone holding the dishtowel against Lorenzo's wound.

"Is he really your dad?" Lucio abruptly asked. "Ottone, I mean."

Tsuna hummed an affirmative.

"As in, the little brother of Coyote Nougat, right?" Lucio insisted. "Nono's Storm Guardian? From the _Vongola_ _Famiglia_?"

Yes, yes, and yes. Unfortunately.

Tsuna shrugged. "He's retired?"

"Wow." Lucio whistled. "That's, like, being part of the inner circle or something."

"Not really –"

"He must know the Vongola boss then. Hell, he must be friend with him. Can you imagine that?" Lucio paused. "Wait. Do you –"

" _No_." Tsuna's voice came out fast, sharp, an automatic denial that rose from the sleeping monster inside.

Implying that Timoteo was a friend made him want to hit something.

(" _I need a few moments with_ _Tsunayoshi_.")

"We're not mafiosos," Tsuna said, softer this time, because Lucio was eying him strangely. "We're not like them."

 _Not like you_.

Their little family did not belong to the underworld. Ottone and Cinzia had kept him far away from the mafia, and that was fine by Tsuna. He wanted nothing to do with those people.

Lucio was still giving him strange looks.

Tsuna felt the tips of his ears starting to grow hot.

Before he could stammer out a question to steer the topic back onto safer grounds, light suddenly flooded the front shop, blinding and painful after so long spent in semi-darkness.

Cinzia stood in the doorway, wearing her lacy nightdress as if it were armor.

"Do you mind if I crash your little party?" she asked sweetly, each word full of razor blades. "I'm afraid I didn't get the invitation."

Tsuna winced. Forget Lorenzo and his bleeding side, they were _all_ going to die.

"Shit," Ottone muttered from somewhere in the background.

Tsuna was fourteen, and he wanted nothing to do with the mafia.

.

* * *

.

Silence and cold.

Darkness and glaciers.

Tsuna was dreaming again.

Ice glistened beneath his feet, hard and flat and damaged by jagged cracks that crisscrossed over its surface. They were definitely bigger now – had grown larger and deeper over the years as if straining to push the ice apart, to forge a passage that lead all the way down into the center of the universe.

Tsuna shivered.

Sparks of light danced all around him, drifting like fireflies caught in a small breeze. He held out a hand and one of them landed on his palm. It was warm, so very warm. Tsuna savored the sensation, even as guilt choked him with ghostly fingers. A war ripped his insides apart as he stood there, tearing at him over a choice that had to be made time and time again, every second of every night.

 _(Break-the-ice!)_

Tsuna jerked away from the orange lights. He stumbled back from the crack, squeezed his eyes shut, and for one dizzying second, he let himself _fall_.

His eyes snapped open a heartbeat later. He was back in his bedroom. The clock on his bedside table read four am.

Well.

Tsuna let out a deep breath. The air he released came out as a white cloud, as if he'd just breathed ice into the room. For a long moment he just lied there, visions of glowing lights and ashes playing out in his mind.

Then he coughed, and it hurt like hell.

Tsuna blanched.

"No," he told himself firmly. " _No_."

It probably would have been more convincing if his voice hadn't sounded like the scratchy croak of a dying possum. Tsuna's pulse skyrocketed. He hated it – hated how being sick brought him right back to that place of steel and glass and chemicals, where he'd had no control over his own body.

He rolled over, burying his head under the blanket.

Tsuna was fifteen and denial wasn't just the name of a river.

.

* * *

.

The candle lights danced merrily above the cake. Its chocolate icing looked smooth and sweet and absolutely delicious.

Tsuna leaned closer.

The little flames shivered with his every breath.

"Go on," Cinzia said.

Ottone stood a little to the side, aiming a camera at Tsuna with a disgruntled expression. He'd been glaring at the world ever since Cinzia had threatened him with bodily harm if he didn't take the _best goddamn pictures ever_.

"Don't forget to make a wish," he said.

Tsuna blew out the sixteen candles.

Smoke rose in the air and Cinzia clapped loudly. A flash went off as Ottone aimed his camera. Soon the cake was cut, and plates were passed around.

Tsuna was smiling so big his cheeks hurt.

He hadn't made a wish. Everything he needed was right there.

.

* * *

.

"Who's Nero?"

The question caught him by complete surprise.

Tsuna jerked around, his heart beat kicking up to a thunderous drum.

Lucio looked back at him. He winced.

It was Easter break and the two of them were hanging out in Tsuna's room, reading comics and enjoying a quiet afternoon without school or homework.

"Sorry," Lucio said, shoulders hunching a little.

"Where did you hear that name?" Tsuna asked sharply.

"You…" Lucio hesitated. "You talk in your sleep. Sometimes."

Ah.

Tsuna stilled.

He couldn't remember dreaming about Nero recently, but Lucio had come over often enough during the past three years that it wouldn't really be a surprise if he'd heard some mumblings at some point or another.

Nero was like a shadow after all, a little ghost that never drifted far from his thoughts, a scar that had never really healed. Of course, Tsuna would see him when he closed his eyes. Of course, he would call his name.

"Forget it," Lucio said quickly. "You don't need to talk about–"

"It's fine," Tsuna cut him off. He flopped back onto his bed and stared at the ceiling. "Nero is – he was …"

Friend. Anchor. Sun.

 _Mine_.

Tsuna settled on saying, "He was like a brother."

But.

That wasn't it either, was it?

Nero had been so much more, could have become so much more. Even now, almost nine years later, the loss of that unexplored potential still robbed the breath out of Tsuna. It made him feel as if there was a hole near his heart, like an ache that woke him up at night and kept him awake with visions of white rooms and charred bodies.

Lucio let out a small noise of acknowledgement. He stared down at his comic, hiding behind its cover as if trying to shield himself from the hurt his question had caused.

Tsuna's lips stretched into a smile.

He was okay.

Really.

He focused on his surroundings, looking at his clothes and books and games. His eyes fell on a pair of textbooks, dog-eared and wrinkled from use. It was strange to think he would be finishing high school in less than three months. Graduation was approaching fast, and Tsuna couldn't honestly say he would miss being a student.

The sound of a car engine drifted in from the open window.

Lucio perked up. "Is it your dad?" he asked.

Tsuna shook his head. "Neighbors."

"Oh." Lucio's fingers tapped an impatient rhythm on his book. Then, "Can I stay over for dinner tonight?"

 _No_ , was Tsuna first reaction, immediately followed by a heartfelt, _hell_ _no_.

Lucio had come back the day after Lorenzo had been shot to bring news of the man's full recovery – and he'd never really left. He'd started to show up frequently, stars in his eyes and worship in his every word as he interacted with Ottone like some sort of over-eager puppy. Somewhere along the line, he'd become friend with Tsuna.

Lucio belonged to the Beccio _Famiglia_ , a small mafia group that lived a one-hour drive away from the bakery. Though technically allied with the Vongola, they weren't high enough on the totem pole to be of any relevance in the grand scheme of things. Lucio, as the first born of a low-ranking member of his _Famiglia_ , regarded Ottone and his mysterious past with the same adoration some kids reserved for rock stars.

Fanboys, Tsuna had discovered, were a real pain in the ass.

He was not dealing with that right now.

"I'm hungry," he said quickly. "Are you hungry? Because I am. I'll go grab something."

He stood up and aimed for the door.

Lucio tackled him right as his toes brushed the floor in the hallway. A strong arm wrapped around his neck and held him in a chokehold.

"Hey!" Tsuna let out a squawk of protest, feet pedaling in the air.

"Come on, I can stay, right?" Lucio growled. He waved a box of chocolates in the air with his free hand, the one that wasn't strangling Tsuna. "Look, I even brought him a present!"

Chocolates.

These were _chocolates_.

Tsuna sputtered. "You're completely _crazy_." He flailed a little, making a weird sort of tap dance in his attempts escape. "And let go!"

"I'm a surportive member of the younger generation," Lucio said without missing a beat. He tightened his hold. "Don't stand in my way."

"I'm not!"

Tsuna twisted sideway, and managed to wriggle free. He took off at a dead run toward the living-room and – to the surprise of absolutely no one – promptly tripped on a rug. He went flying over the dining table and crashed on the other side with a yelp.

Lucio caught up with him just as he managed to untangle himself from the chair he'd knocked over.

The teen squatted down beside Tsuna and smirked. "Nice landing."

.

* * *

.

"Call me before you go to sleep, understood?"

"Yes, I'll–"

"And lock the door behind you. Don't leave the windows open."

"I _know_." Tsuna gave Cinzia a light push toward the exit. "You've been repeating yourself for ten minutes."

Cinzia shrugged off his hands and surveyed on last time the small apartment. She nodded to herself. "Yeah, I think we've got everything covered."

Ottone stood in the hallway outside, stewing with impatience as he held the front door open. "Jesus, leave the brat alone. He'll be fine."

"Of course, he'll be fine. I raised him."

"Then what the hell are you panicking for?"

"Shut up," she snapped. "It's a tradition, alright? I'm supposed to be fussing right now!"

"Bullshit. You just like the drama."

Cinzia stabbed a finger in his direction. "If you don't stop being a killjoy right this instant I'm moving away to live with Tsuna."

Ottone checked his watch. "Be my fucking guest. I'm sure the bathtub will be very comfortable."

"Asshole."

Tsuna groaned. He was sweaty from a day of lugging around pieces of furniture and unpacking boxes. He just wanted to collapse in bed and sleep for a week.

"Guys…"

"Okay, okay." Cinzia rolled her eyes. "You two are no fun." She grabbed Tsuna's shoulders and yanked him down to plant a resounding kiss on his forehead. "Be well, stay safe, and remember – if you need us, we're right around the corner."

Tsuna smiled. "I know. Thank you."

"Right. One last thing then." Cinzia dug into her handbag and shoved something small into his hands. "Here, take this."

Tsuna glanced down – and found himself staring at a box of condoms.

Cinzia patted his cheek. "Don't forget to use protection," she crooned.

Tsuna slowly looked up, horrified.

Could – could someone actually _die_ out of sheer mortification?

" _Cinzia!_ " he yelped, ears burning. He flung the box away as if it were a viper and basically kicked the woman out of the apartment. Cinzia let herself be pushed away, cackling the whole time like a second-rate supervillain.

Tsuna sort of wanted to hit her with a pillow. He settled for slamming the door hard enough to shake the walls.

"Really?" he heard Ottone grumble through the wood.

A snicker. "I _had_ to. Did you see his face?"

Their footsteps grew fainter and fainter, and Tsuna let himself slide down to the floor. He covered his cheeks with both hands and waited a minute or two for his skin to stop feeling like painful sunburns. Damn, he'd been too naïve. He'd let his guard down and Cinzia had rushed into the opening, blindsiding him with a critical hit.

Tsuna peeked at the silent apartment through his fingers.

One table with two chairs, a bed and a small TV were all crammed into the fifteen square meters room. A small kitchenette faced the window above his bed, complete with a fridge, a micro wave, and a portable hotplate.

It wasn't much, but it was Tsuna's home now.

He'd moved away the day before, though his new place wasn't exactly very far from the bakery. _Little Trinci_ was literally two blocks down the street. It wouldn't take a five-minute walk to get there.

He'd wanted to do this.

It had been Tsuna's idea to become independent as soon as possible, to stand on his own two feet and prove to himself that he could take responsibility for his life. He would work, earn money to pay for rent. It had taken a long time for Cinzia and Ottone to accept his decision, but he'd been adamant.

Tsuna gulped.

The silence in the apartment felt intimidating.

Heavy.

Daunting.

Tsuna wrapped his arms around himself. There would be no heavy footsteps to wake him up in the morning now. No voices arguing down the hallway, no drifting off to sleep while someone's was up and moving in the living room.

It probably wasn't too late to change his mind.

He could still call and tell them that he wasn't ready after all, that he wanted to go home and never leave again. They wouldn't say no. Cinzia would be there in a heartbeat, Ottone one step behind her, ready to drag his things back to the moving truck. He could be sleeping in his own bedroom that very night.

Except.

Tsuna wouldn't do that.

He loved Ottone and Cinzia fiercely, but he'd never really forgotten how it had all started in an abandoned house with an old man saying, _Tsunayoshi will be sent away_. Years had passed since then, and Tsuna wouldn't take another moment of their lives, not if he could help it. He wasn't a burden, not anymore.

 _(Resolve-and-reassurance.)_

A whisper abruptly brushed the back of his mind.

 _(Resolve-and-strength.)_

Tsuna leaped to his feet as if he'd been electrocuted.

Nope, nope, nope.

He'd heard nothing. There was no voice in his head, no presence under his skin.

Tsuna had just turned eighteen, and he was completely, perfectly normal.

So, of course, that's when the hitman came crashing into his life and decided to stay.

.

* * *

.

Bam.

We're done with the first arc of this fic.

I can't believe it took me over 45k words to get there. Those are the basic points of the plot I wanted established for Hiraeth: a sort of civilian-raised Tsuna who's been screwed over by the mafia world time and time again. He's not exactly happy with them right now, and they better brace themselves for his reappearance. Also, faulty seal – that's going to be fun to play with.

Anyway, new canon characters are going to start appearing, first of the list being everyone's favorite hitman.

Until next time guys,

Rei.


	9. The hitman I

Cinzia violently slammed a hand on the countertop next to the sink. The resulting _bang_ echoed like a crack of thunder.

"Let's switch," she said. "I'll take over with the cleaning, and you go deal with the front shop."

Tsuna blinked.

He was elbow-deep in soapy water, in the process of washing several loaf pans, whisks and pastry brushes, and the front of his shirt was wet. As a final nail to the coffin, the apron he wore was purple with pink frills around the neck. This was not the sort of appearance that conveyed serious professionalism. One glance and customers would run away giggling into the hills.

"Come on, hurry up," Cinzia said, trying to push him aside.

Tsuna resisted, holding onto the edge of the sink. "Why?" he asked warily.

If ever there was a time to look a gift horse in the mouth, this was it. Cinzia did not simply _offer_ to take over your chores.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Just do it, or I swear to God someone's gonna die, and then you'll have to visit me in prison for the next thirty years."

Oh, wow, okay.

Red flags snapped up in Tsuna's mind. That sounded serious – the kind of serious he did not want to get involved with.

 _At all_.

A quick look around revealed that Ottone was nowhere to be seen.

Tsuna grimaced.

Fine. He could deal with this. It was just like defusing a bomb about to have a nuclear meltdown in your face, right? No problem.

He turned off the faucet and focused on Cinzia.

"What's going on?"

" _What's going on?_ " she repeated, hissing like a venom-spitting dragon. " _What's going on_ is that I'm going to punt that jackass through a goddamn _wall_ if he asks me to make him another coffee again."

Well. Crap.

Asshole costumers could be a real pain to deal with.

Tsuna made a small commiserating noise. "That bad?"

"Three times, Tsuna. Not once, not twice, but _three_ times. And he just goes on and on about the _texture_. What the hell?"

Tsuna winced. "Sounds like a winner to me."

"Right?" Cinzia's hands clenched and unclenched at her sides, as if she were imagining them wrapped around somebody's throat. "Too cold. Too bland. Too _hot_. That jerk's messing with me." She paused. "I'm thinking arsenic."

" _Whoa_." Tsuna yanked his gloves off and shoved them at Cinzia. "Let's not get carried away."

"I'm not," she retorted. "I'm having a perfectly normal reaction. In fact, I'm about to do the world a favor."

"Murder is a favor?"

Cinzia waved his concerns away. "Clearly, you've not murdered enough people," she said. And then she smiled, wide and white with a whole lot of teeth showing. "It can be wonderfully therapeutic."

Tsuna maneuvered her toward the sink.

"I'll take care of it," he said. "You – you just stay here and relax for a moment."

Please, he almost begged. Please, don't assault anyone again?

Ottone was still grousing about that time last month when she'd sucker-punched a tourist who'd said their bread didn't taste like authentic French baguettes.

"Fine." Cinzia sighed. "No arsenic. Party pooper." She grabbed a sponge. "He ordered an espresso, by the way. Short black. No sugar, no milk." A snort. " _Savage_."

Tsuna took off his apron and started for the door.

Cinzia craned her head to watch him go.

"You sure you don't want a little pinch of arsenic?"

"No!"

 _Little Trinci_ was empty except for the lone customer leaning against the counter. The man was idly spinning a black fedora hat on the tip of a finger, gazing out the windows with a bored air about him.

Tsuna eyed him suspiciously for a second, then glanced outside, too.

Dawn was just breaking over the roofs of the city, painting the sky in hues of pink and orange. Like a great machine shaking off its slumber, the neighborhood was reluctantly waking up. People trickled down the street, heading to the nearest bus stop to catch a ride for work.

"Good morning," Tsuna said as he slipped behind the display cases, making a bee-line for the coffee machine.

The man slid him a disinterested look – and abruptly stilled. He straightened, turned around, and looked right into Tsuna's eyes.

It was – it was like a reinforced piece of iron had just slammed into his guts.

Tsuna yelped, stumbled, and almost crashed into the counter.

"S-sorry," he said, catching himself with both hand on the register machine. It let out a distressed _beep-beep_ and Tsuna frantically stabbed at its buttons until it fell quiet again. "Give me a moment and I'll have your order ready."

"It's fine," the man said, head cocked to the side. "I'm not in a hurry."

And then he stared. And stared some more.

Alrighty, then.

Determined to ignore how the man was intently tracking his every move, Tsuna set to work. He grabbed a paper cut, worked the coffee machine and waited the nerve-wracking couple of seconds until dark liquid started dribbling from its brew-head.

Tsuna frowned. The space between his shoulder blades itched, as if something massive and unblinking had fixed its eyes on him. A quick peek behind revealed that the man hadn't looked away. Tsuna winced.

This was starting to feel really awkward.

Thankfully, a fine layer of foam had started to float over the top of the coffee by then. It gave off a pleasant aroma, thick and rich.

Tsuna turned off the machine and brought the coffee to the costumer.

"Here you go," he said, and felt damn proud when his voice didn't waver – his knees knocking together like a small earthquake were bad enough.

The man didn't react at first. An eternity seemed to come and go before he picked up the cup and brought it to his mouth for a careful sip.

His face immediately twisted into a scowl.

" _Disgusting_ ," he spat, slamming the cup down.

Huh?

The man looked at the steaming coffee as if it were a particularly gross bug who'd just insulted his mother. "This is no better than sewer water," he said. "Again. I want a refund."

Long fingers firmly pushed the offending cup away.

Tsuna blinked down at it like an idiot.

A jerk, Cinzia had said, and alright, sure, he could definitely see where she'd been coming from now. A small voice at the back of his mind whimpered about how lucky they were that it was him standing there, getting sort-of-maybe insulted, and not Cinzia. It would have taken weeks to scrap the blood off the walls.

"I'm … sorry?" Tsuna said, even though he had nothing to apologize for – they weren't a _café_. "We're not really equipped to make traditional coffees but there's a bistro a little further down the street and I'm sure –"

"Never mind that," the man interrupted. "It's not important."

Was that guy serious?

Tsuna grabbed his patience with both hands and held on for dear life.

He smiled. "Can I get you anything else?"

The man cocked his head to the side. "It depends," he said, and then leaned an inch forward.

The air around him abruptly changed. It grew taunt, tense and still in a way that reminded Tsuna of a shark scenting blood in the water. It was impossible to miss how his eyes went from dark to completely and utterly _black_. For a moment, they almost seemed to glow, somehow, as if there was a star burning just under the surface.

The stranger smirked. "What's your name?"

"Tsuna."

The answer fell from his lips automatically, instinctively, before he could even think about deflecting or lying.

Tsuna immediately wanted to kick himself in the teeth.

"Doesn't sound Italian," the man told him.

"It's not."

"Oh? Are you a foreigner?"

"Not exactly," Tsuna said slowly, glancing around. There was nothing behind him, of course, but he couldn't help but feel like a big shadow had started drawing circles around him. He resisted the urge to take a step back.

The man looked down at Tsuna's twitching fingers. The curve of his smile widened, sly and darkly amused. "There was a boy I heard about a few years back," he said. "He wasn't Italian either."

Tsuna had no reason to panic, absolutely no reason at all. This was a coincidence, and one day he would look back on this moment and laugh at how stupidly paranoid he could be.

One day. Very soon.

"R-really?"

The man hummed. "What was his name again? Ah, right." He snapped his fingers. "Tsunayoshi. _Sawada_ Tsunayoshi."

 _No_.

Tsuna stiffened.

His stomach lurched, as if the floor had suddenly disappeared, and his heart beat went wild, a thundering beast trying to escape his ribcage even if it meant pounding a hole through flesh and bones.

Just – _no_.

People weren't supposed to know, not about them, not about _him_. Timoteo had been categorical. Tsunayoshi will be sent away, he'd said, and they'd left. Because Tsuna's existence was an inconvenience. Because he was dangerous. Because that was what had been bargained and promised.

Tsuna opened his mouth.

No sound came out.

"Are you alright?" The man tilted his head to the side, an edge of mockery entering his voice. "You've gone a little pale."

"Who –" Tsuna choked. "Who are you?"

The man lifted a brow. "You don't know?"

Was he supposed to?

Tsuna shook his head.

" _Ha_." The man snorted. "Now, that's what I call screwing up."

Tsuna agreed wholeheartedly.

"What are you doing here?"

The new voice sliced into the conversation like a sharp blade. It felt wonderful. Tsuna snapped out of his budding panic attack and back to the present.

Ottone stood in the kitchen's doorway, looking a little like he'd just been slapped with a dead fish. He glanced at the man, glanced at Tsuna, and then glanced back at the man.

His face reddened. "What the _fuck_ are you doing here?"

"Ciaossu, Ottone." The stranger put his fedora back on his head. "I was just dropping by to say hi. You'll never guess what I found instead." He looked at Tsuna, dark eyes glinting. "One of Nono's skeleton. A big one that's not hidden away in a closet."

Ottone turned livid. He pointed at the door and snarled. " _Get out."_

The man snickered. Held his hands up in surrender.

And left.

.

* * *

.

"He's what?"

"A hitman."

"A _what_?"

"A hitman – and don't make me repeat myself again!"

Cinzia's mouth had dropped open. "That jerk?"

"Yeah, that jerk." Ottone paced back and forth in front of the dining table, footsteps heavy and loud. "Name's Reborn, and he's probably the best fucking hitman in the whole goddamn mafia right now."

"Wait." Cinzia paled. "He's Reborn? _The_ Reborn?" She paused, long enough to give Ottone and incredulous look. "What on earth is he doing here?"

"Fuck if I know." Ottone shrugged. "The crazy asshole's always been fucking unpredictable." He frowned. "But he shouldn't have heard about this place. It's supposed to be kept confidential."

"He knew my name," Tsuna said. "My other name."

"Of course, he did." Ottone clipped. "Reborn doesn't belong to any _Famiglia_ , but he's an ally of the Vongola and he's skilled enough to come and go as he pleases around the Boss. If anyone knows about Iemitsu's fucked up family history, it's him. And that's not even talking about what Primo looked like."

Tsuna gaped at Ottone.

Then he turned around to gape at Cinzia.

"And you couldn't choose someone else to pick a fight with?" he asked, voice going one octave higher with each word. "Anyone who's not a professional killer?"

"I – I didn't know." Cinzia stared at him, apparently at loss for words, and if the situation had been any different, Tsuna would have taken a moment to savor the carp-out-of-water expression painted on her face.

Except that there was a hitman out there. A hitman who knew his name.

That sort of beat seeing Cinzia struck speechless.

 _Holy crap._

Tsuna forced himself to take a deep breath before he started hyperventilating.

Cinzia recovered, pulling indignation around her like a thick cloak of protection.

"I don't work for the mafia, and I'm not Flame Active," she said stridently, using terms and phrases no one had uttered in years, not since Ottone had explained to Tsuna why an old man had felt the need to put ice under his skin.

"I'm no one important," Cinzia continued. "Not to them. I haven't put a single foot in a Vongola headquarter in over a decade and even before that I didn't exactly mingle with mafia nobility." She scowled. "Where, exactly, would I have had the chance to meet that guy?"

"B-but!" Tsuna flailed a little. "How could you not _know_?"

It wasn't logical, it wasn't even reasonable, and yet he couldn't get over the fact that she had almost fought with a hitman.

What if something had happened? What if she'd been hurt?

The mere thought made Tsuna feel sick.

"Like I said," Cinzia snapped. "It's not like I knew his face or something." She looked remarkably irritated now, as if the man – Reborn – had gone out of his way to annoy her. "How was I supposed to recognize him?"

Ottone pinched the bridge of his nose. "Fucking _mafia_."

Tsuna inhaled sharply.

Alright, this was bad, but it wasn't like they had a choice in the matter, not anymore. They would just have to find a way to salvage the situation.

Tsuna looked down.

He rubbed his hands together, the tips of his fingers tingling uncomfortably, a sharp pin-and-needle sensation that heralded a change in skin color. Soon, it would turn from a healthy pink to something pale and bluish. Flexing his fingers helped a little, and rubbing his palms over his pants usually warmed them enough that he no longer felt the pinpricks of numbness stabbing at his nerves and articulations.

It had been warm near the hitman. Tsuna tried not to think about it, and yet a small part of himself couldn't stop being fascinated with the fact that he'd actually felt the subtle rise in temperatures.

Which was beyond stupid.

Tsuna wrenched his thoughts away and looked up. "What do we do?"

"We get rid of him," Ottone instantly answered.

Cinzia rubbed her forehead. "Your brother?"

"The moron should make himself useful once in a while."

"I'm not sure about that," Reborn interrupted from their left.

And for the second time that day, Tsuna almost died out of sheer shock.

He leaped to his feet and whirled around, barely aware that Ottone and Cinzia were doing the same next to him.

The hitman was leaning against the fridge, looking grossly out of place in a bakery's kitchen.

Tsuna gawked at him, dumbstruck.

"Does Coyote even pick up your calls these days?" Reborn went on. "From what I remember, you're not exactly on speaking terms."

Ottone unclenched his jaw. "Oh, he'll talk to me alright," he gritted out. "If he knows what's good for him."

"Hm." Reborn glanced at Tsuna. "I suppose he will, yes."

Tsuna had to strain every muscle in his body to keep from flinching. He shifted slightly to the side to stand a little more in front of Cinzia, acutely aware that his skinny frame wouldn't be nearly enough to shield her if the hitman decided he was done playing nice.

Reborn noted the move. His lips stretched into a sharp line. "Cute."

 _Fuck. You._

Tsuna tried to glare. His chattering teeth somewhat undermined the effort. "W-what do you want?"

"From you? Nothing. Not yet."

"We're not holding you back," Cinzia said, gesturing at the door. "Leave."

Reborn gave her a bored look. "It's definitely not your coffee that's keeping me here, lady."

Cinzia let out the sound of an enraged bull and Tsuna swallowed a groan. If they all made it out of _Little Trinci_ intact, then they would deserve to get some sort of trophy to celebrate. One engraved with simple declarations like, _I Didn't Murder Anyone Today_ , or _No One Stabbed Me This Morning_.

Tsuna had trouble seeing that happenin though.

"Stop fucking around." Ottone crossed his arms over his chest, feet braced evenly on the tiled floor. "Take your bullshit with you and scram."

"I don't think so," Reborn drawled. "Things have been incredibly dull lately, and this?" He smiled, showing the edge of his teeth. "Now, this looks interesting."

Ottone's eyes narrowed. "Cinzia," he called without looking away. "Bring me my gun."

"Oh?" Reborn perked up, looking positively delighted at the mention of the very illegal firearm.

"Only if I get to pull the trigger," Cinzia retorted.

"You think you have a chance against me?" Reborn asked.

He sounded alarmingly amused to Tsuna's ears, the way a cat might be amused at a fat mouse squirming between its paws.

Ottone glowered. "Let's find out."

"Oh my god, guys." Tsuna scrambled between the two of them. "Let's _not_."

When had he become the only sane person in the room anyway? Him, the kid with ice in his heart and a nightmare's voice in his head?

Reborn started to laugh.

.

* * *

.

Okay, this chapter is shorter than usual but Reborn's being a stubborn asshole to write. I still love him. Maybe I'll try to add an omake written in his POV at the end of the next chapter to get a better feel of his character. We'll see how that goes. Is anyone interested?

As always, thank you for reading this fic.

Rei.


	10. The hitman II

Tsuna cautiously peeked around the corner of his building.

No black suits. No fedoras. No hitmen.

The coast was clear.

Or was it?

He squinted at the crowd of passersby, unwilling to step out in the open, not with that persistent feeling at the back of his mind insisting that something was off. A woman threw him a strange look as she trotted down the street. Another glared at him. Tsuna fought off a blush but didn't move. He checked his surroundings again.

Still nothing.

Just regular people heading off to work.

He let out a breath.

Reborn was long gone, everything was fine, and he was about to get his ass kicked for being late.

"Looking for someone?"

A hand landed on his shoulder.

Tsuna yelped, threw himself backward, and slammed into the nearest wall. He stayed there for a second, gawking at the tall figure standing in front of him. Reborn watched him back, eyes black and dark and flat as if they could weigh and dissect a soul in a single glance. Tsuna had the distinct impression he'd been found severely lacking.

Reborn raised a slow, unimpressed brow..

No, dammit. _No_.

This wasn't how things were supposed to be.

"Wha-what –" Tsuna picked his jaw off the ground. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Another brow went up.

"I mean. What are you doing here? Sir?"

Reborn stepped back with a snort. "Drop the sir. It's not necessary."

Sure. Fine. Arguing with the professional criminal didn't sound very smart anyway.

Reborn tilted his face back as he took in the whole building. It was difficult to say for sure, but it seemed like his attention zeroed in on the top floor – on Tsuna's windows – with alarming accuracy.

"So. This is where you live."

"I, huh, yes? But why are you–"

"You should move," Reborn interrupted. "The building's too old, barely worth the effort to break in, and its location is just terrible."

Tsuna's mouth closed with a click.

Reborn prowled toward the front door. Strong fingers grabbed the big door knob and gave a hard yank. The door let out a distressed creak and shook on its hinges.

"Yes." Reborn made a disgusted sound. "That's what I thought."

Tsuna stared.

It was probably too late to go back to bed and pretend the day hadn't started yet, he thought distantly. To bury himself under a mountain of blanket and wait for the storm of weird and crazy to blow over.

His hands clenched into fists.

By the time he'd left _Little Trinci_ last night, Reborn had been long gone and Ottone had just finished snarling threats into his cellphone. The Vongola had been warned. They knew about Reborn, and that should have been more than guarantee enough to ensure his swift departure.

So what the _hell_.

"And those windows, they're perfect for assassinations." Apparently, Reborn wasn't done with criticizing every square meter of the neighborhood. "Anyone standing on the roofs across the street could put a bullet in your head without being seen."

Awesome.

Now Tsuna was never going to sleep again.

"People don't worry about that kind of stuff," he said. "They just don't."

"Ah, yes. _Civilians_." Reborn suddenly grinned, a baring of teeth that could never be mistaken as friendly. "So easy to kill."

Tsuna closed his eyes.

He started to count to ten. Then he did it again. Backwards. And in Japanese.

 _This_.

This was exactly why he'd drawn a line in the sand years ago and decided to never dip a single toe onto the other side. Something had to be seriously wrong when a man's first thought about a location was its potential for _assassination_ – for death and murder weapons and body counts.

Something poked Tsuna's forehead.

Warmth, golden and purposeful, tingled across the surface of his skin. It sank underneath a moment later and Tsuna's eyes flew open. Visions of orange fire filled his mind, and no, _hell no_ , he wasn't going through that again, not over his dead body.

He jerked away with a hiss. "What are you doing?"

Reborn looked down at the fingers he'd used to touch Tsuna, rubbing the tips together. "Checking your Flames," he said absently, then paused. "Flames are –"

"I know what Flames are," Tsuna snapped, bitterness burning the back of his throat. "I _know_."

Nero's sunlight had been playful and fragile, Vito's fire had felt like the heaviness in the air before a lightning strike, and Timoteo's Flames tasted of steel and determination and –

Pain exploded in Tsuna's shin.

He dropped into a crouch with a squeal, cradling a knee.

"Did you just _kick_ me?"

Reborn flicked a speck of dust from his shoulder. "You were being rude." He glanced down at Tsuna, eyes were dancing with laughter. "I don't like rude people."

This was some sort of nightmare. Tsuna's blood pressure skyrocketed.

"What the –"

Reborn kicked him again.

 _"Ow!"_

.

* * *

.

 _Little Trinci_ 's front shop was dark and empty as Tsuna entered the bakery thirty minutes later. He'd barely stepped over the threshold when Cinzia swooped in from nowhere and whisked him upstairs.

"We're not opening today," she announced as she shoved him into a chair in the kitchen. A plate full of bacon and eggs was promptly slid in front of him. "So take your time with breakfast."

"We're closed?"

The last time _Little Trinci_ hadn't opened, Ottone and Cinzia had both been down with a cold that was eerily similar to the bubonic plague. It had flattened the two of them for a whole week and Tsuna had been too young to handle the bakery alone. Not opening meant something was seriously wrong.

Tsuna grimaced.

"It's because of him, isn't it?"

Cinzia pointed at the bacon. "Eat _._ "

He picked up his fork.

"If by him," Cinzia continued, "you mean the stubborn asshole who won't go away, then yes, you'd be right."

She banged open a couple of cupboards and started making tea.

Tsuna swallowed. "Why is he still here?"

Cinzia threw him a narrow-eyed look. " _Still_ here?"

"He was waiting for me when I left home."

A string of colorful curses exploded into the room.

Tsuna stoically weathered the storm. "Tell me," he pushed. "What's going on?"

"Nothing." Cinzia slammed a cup on the table. Hot liquid sloshed over the rim. "Nothing's going on and that's the problem."

"But they know," Tsuna protested. "They _know_. Ottone called them. I heard him talking to Coyote."

"Oh, sure, Ottone told the bastards alright." Cinzia stabbed a teaspoon in her cup and stirred furiously. "Nono even called back a little after you left last night. Sounded really pissed off."

Tsuna's heart skipped a beat at the mention of Timoteo – of ice and emptiness and haunting silence.

He unclenched his teeth. "Then that's it. If Timoteo knows about Reborn, everything's going to be fine."

Cinzia shook her head. "It's not that simple."

"It is," Tsuna insisted. "They just need to tell Reborn to leave."

"Nope. Not this time."

"But _why_?"

"Because," Cinzia snapped, "the world's not all sunshine and unicorns shitting sparkling rainbows all over the place. And because Ottone is a moron and he hung up on Nono instead of actually _talking_."

Tsuna took a moment to register her words.

"They … fought?"

"Are you really surprised?"

No.

No, he wasn't.

Tsuna rubbed a hand down his face.

"Stop with the kicked-puppy look," Cinzia grumbled. "It's too damn cute and I want to stay angry."

Tsuna glared at her through his fingers. "I'm not cute."

She rolled her eyes.

He quickly steered the conversation back on tracks. "I just – I don't understand. Timoteo doesn't want people to know about me. Nothing has changed."

"You're right." Cinzia squirmed around until she'd managed to sit cross-legged without falling off her chair. "Nono isn't happy with the jackass hitman meeting you, and they tried to yank on his leash to bring him to heel, but..."

"But?"

"It didn't go well."

Oh, God.

Tsuna could imagine in vivid details what a disagreement between a mafia boss and a hitman would look like. It involved a lot of violence. And blood. Gallons and gallons of blood.

"Did Reborn kill someone?" he whispered, horrified.

"Idiot." Cinzia pointed her teaspoon at him. "Murdering his employer would be kinda counter-productive, don't you think?" She shrugged. "Basically, they told him to get lost, he said no, and now everybody's stuck in a standstill."

What.

No, seriously.

 _What_.

"He said no?"

"Apparently when you're a hitman of Reborn's reputation, you can do pretty much whatever the hell you please, and there's not a lot of people who can say anything about it."

"No one can ignore the Vongola!"

"Well." Cinzia glared down at her cup. "He did."

Tsuna gaped.

But the promise, he thought, frantic. What about the promise?

Years ago, the Vongola had looked at Tsuna and saw a problem that would have to be buried and forgotten – and they'd promised. Sawada had walked away, had left Tsuna behind, and he'd sworn the mafia would never bother him again. One last betrayal, he hadn't said, in exchange for a normal life.

And now they dared – they actually _dared_ – to renege and let some stranger with trigger-happy fingers mess with Tsuna's life?

Cinzia reached over the table and patted his hand. "Don't worry. We'll deal with the bastard." She smiled. "And if push comes to shove, I've still got that little bit of arsenic stashed away somewhere."

"Don't say that." Tsuna groaned. "Not with a smile."

Cinzia wiggled her eyebrows. She looked ridiculous. Tsuna snorted. He started eating again and the kitchen lapsed into silence.

Maybe Reborn had been on to something, after all. Maybe moving away wasn't such a bad idea. Surely no one would ever bother him again if he lived like a hermit in the middle of Siberia. Then Tsuna remembered about all the snow and blizzards and negative temperatures, and realized it wasn't going to work.

Crap.

"Fucking useless _fuckers_."

Heavy stomping headed toward them from the hallway. Ottone stormed into the kitchen with all the poise of a thundercloud.

Cinzia calmly sipped her tea. "No good news?"

"Stupid assholes," Ottone snarled. "You'd think they'd have pulled their goddamn heads out of their fucking asses by now."

Cinzia looked at Tsuna. "That means no good news."

"Yeah." Tsuna tasted ash on his tongue. "I'd guessed."

"Timoteo's being a chicken shit." Ottone yanked a chair back and sat down heavily. "He's spewing some bullshit about Reborn and confidentiality clauses and how everything's under control." He ground his teeth together. "Nothing's under control. He's just scared."

That again.

Tsuna looked at Cinzia, then back at Ottone. "Timoteo is the boss of the Vongola," he said, because neither of them seemed to understand what that meant. "He's the head of one the strongest _Famiglias_ in the world. He can't be scared."

Ottone scoffed. "Oh, there's a lot of shit that scares Timoteo."

"Reborn." Cinzia's lips tightened. "Is he really that strong?"

Ottone grunted an affirmative.

Dread coiled in Tsuna's belly. Panic followed hot on its heels.

"Then Reborn can't know about me," he said quickly. "He _can't_."

Ottone glared at him. "That cat's already out of the fucking bag, isn't it?"

Bullseye.

Tsuna winced.

"So he's staying?" he asked, each word thick with disbelief. "They're just going to let him stay?"

"For now. Timoteo won't start a war if he can help it."

"A _war_. _"_ Tsuna blinked _._ "He's just one man."

"No," Ottone said, sharp and quiet and pissed off. "He's a Sun, one who's strong enough to make Timoteo hesitate. The damage he could do to the Vongola before they manage to take him down would be massive."

"Then." Tsuna glanced at Cinzia. "Then we do nothing?"

She frowned.

"Bastard will get bored soon enough," Ottone said. " He's not the type to settle in one place for long. He'll leave."

Tsuna's breath hitched in his throat.

Cinzia noticed. She once again reached over the table to grab his hand.

"Hey," she murmured. "Don't freak out. We'll figure something out. It'll be fine."

Her voice was calm, familiar. It sounded like home.

The tight feeling that had been growing in Tsuna's chest since the previous day suddenly crystalized into something solid and evident. It hit him out of nowhere, a gentle and soft realization that was suddenly there, clear and strong and unshakable.

Tsuna looked down at Cinzia's slender fingers and thought, _oh_.

Because the monsters of his childhood weren't gone. Because somewhere out there, the mafia machine was still churning. Men died screaming and women disappeared in flashes of Flames. Kids were gutted for sparks of elusive fire and sad old men poured frost into flesh and bones to cover their mistakes.

Tsuna didn't care.

Nightmares hid in the dark. They could rip and rend and tear until there was nothing left but a thousand pieces that bled with every gasping breath you took. Protecting meant pain and death, and sometimes even all that wasn't enough. Sometimes you struggled and cried and begged and still drowned in a sea of red.

That was fine.

Tsuna had fought the fight. He'd lost and shattered, but he'd survived. He was alive. He was still _sane_.

Let someone else be the hero, let someone else save the world. As long as the people he cared about remained untouched, as long as no danger was aimed at them, then Tsuna was happy to live in his little neck of the woods.

Perhaps that made him inhuman. Too cold and selfish and indifferent. It didn't matter. He refused to burn for people who had almost destroyed him.

But.

Ottone and Cinzia?

He loved them. Like a man dying of thirst in front of a lake, like an ache that never went away, like a jealous, ugly person that would always, _always_ , refuse to let go.

There was nothing at all he wouldn't do to keep them safe.

Tsuna stared at Cinzia's fingers.

Yes, was the obvious answer. For them.

Something deep inside trembled in response. It shook and shuddered, ripples running over the surface of still water, and the cracks in Tsuna's soul widened.

Ottone stood up and went to pour some coffee in a mug.

Cinzia stared at his back. "Timoteo's not the only one who should be afraid," she said. "Reborn's strong, but he can't take on the Vongola by himself and win."

"And no one's happy about that stalemate," Ottone said. He glanced at Tsuna. "Stay sharp. Don't do anything stupid. I bet he'll be gone by the end of the week."

Tsuna didn't say anything. A numb sort of resignation descended over him like a cloak.

His hands were shaking.

Blue and stiff and cold.

( _Break-the-ice!)_

No.

Not _yet_.

.

* * *

.

Contrary to Ottone's predictions, Reborn didn't leave by the end of the week.

Tsuna couldn't say he was surprised.

Disappointed? Yes.

Depressed? Definitely.

But surprised?

Absolutely not.

"Your situational awareness is just pathetic," Reborn said the following morning as he appeared out of thin air and almost gave Tsuna a coronary.

"Do you make a habit of tripping on your own feet?" was his snippy question on the third day.

"Stand tall," he ordered two days later. "Lift your head. A man should walk with confidence, not look like a scared rabbit about to bolt."

The whole situation was nerve-racking and annoying as hell and he was going to snap and throttle Reborn before the cocky asshole had the chance to get bored and leave for greener pastures. Tsuna had never had a stalker before, but he thought the word was a perfect fit for Reborn.

A red ball rolled to a stop in front of him.

Tsuna carefully kicked it away.

Further ahead, a bunch of kids chorused a loud _thank you_ as they ran off to pick up their soccer game.

With a loud sigh, Tsuna went back to staring gloomily at the grass between his feet, the bags of grocery by his side rustling softly in the wind. The fenced playground on his left buzzed with activity as children dashed from swings to roundabouts to sandboxes. Their parents were peppered all around the playing area, gathered in small clusters of chattering moms and dads that were almost as loud as the children.

Tsuna let his head fall back. He didn't want to go home yet. The weather was great, warm and sunny without a single cloud on the horizon. It'd feel like a waste to stay indoors. Tsuna closed his eyes and allowed thoughts of stalkers and broken promises to drift away. His body started to relax. On days like this it was almost easy to forget.

But then, of course, without any warning whatsoever, Reborn dropped on the bench right next to him.

"So," the hitman said, all suave charm as he casually crossed his legs and leaned back. "You speak Japanese."

Tsuna clutched the front of his shirt. "You have to stop doing this," he wheezed.

"Keeping tracks of your surrounding is a basic skill." Reborn flapped an unsympathetic hand in the air. "You should thank me. I'm helping you."

"By giving me heart attacks?"

"If that's what it takes."

 _Jerk_.

Tsuna's hand twitched toward his grocery bags. He briefly considered smashing Reborn's head with a cucumber. The sound would be very satisfying. A loud _crunch_ underlying a _bang_ that would surely make him feel infinitely better.

Reborn slid him a look.

Black eyes drilled into Tsuna's, as if his every thought was out there for the world to see. Reborn's lips stretched into a sharp line, something in its curve screaming at Tsuna to _try_ , _just try it_.

Yeah – no.

Tsuna didn't have the courage to be that stupid, not when merely standing beside the man felt like sharing space with something big and hungry that had fangs.

His cheeks grew hot. "Help me less," he muttered, looking away. "Please."

Reborn snorted. "Well?"

"Well, what?" Tsuna kicked at a little rock.

Getting up and walking away probably wouldn't help. The hitman would just follow him.

"Japanese," Reborn repeated impatiently. "I heard you talking to that tourist earlier. Your accent's pretty good. You sounded almost like a native speaker."

Tsuna gritted his teeth. He had given directions to a group of lost women more than one hour ago. Which meant Reborn had been following him since he'd left home, which meant the whole stalker thing was really happening.

"Tsuna?"

"Yes," he answered tightly. "I started learning Japanese four years ago."

"Hmm." Reborn clearly picked up on the note of annoyance in Tsuna's tone. His lips quirked at the corners. "Got any plans to travel to Japan?"

Tsuna shook his head. "No."

"Maybe you should."

"I don't have the money."

"I'm sure you could come up with something. Staying over at a relative's house is an option. You'd save on living expenses."

Tsuna threw the hitman a dirty look. "I said no."

"Oh?" Reborn smirked. " _Did I hit a sore spot?_ "

"It's none of your business," Tsuna retorted sharply. The shift in language registered. He blinked. "You speak Japanese?"

"Obviously." Reborn's smirk widened at Tsuna's dumbstruck expression, his eyes glinting with satisfaction. "Close your mouth. You look ridiculous."

"It's just… very unexpected?"

Reborn shrugged. "Japanese has become something of a necessity in the last few months."

He wasn't going to pry, Tsuna told himself sternly. It didn't concern him and _clearly_ the less he knew, the better off he was.

His traitorous mouth opened.

"A necessity?" he asked.

Reborn nodded. "A work-related necessity. One of my future employers comes from Japan and I thought it couldn't hurt our business relationship to learn his language."

"Huh." Tsuna carefully didn't consider what Reborn meant by employers. Then he frowned. "Wait – in the last few _months_?"

"Of course," Reborn said. "It's not like it takes years to learn a couple of words."

Tsuna reeled back.

He looked in horror at Reborn's disinterested expression, his mind swimming with the hours upon hours he'd spent hammering kanjis in his brain.

"It does," he said with indignation. "It really takes _years_."

"Then you didn't try hard enough." A sly expression fell over Reborn's face. "I did notice you can be very slow at times. Maybe I should start calling you something else." He paused dramatically. "What do you think of _Toroi_ -Tsuna?"

Tsuna's thoughts sort of went blank for a second.

"No?" Reborn leaned a little forward. "What about _Aho_ -Tsuna? Or _Baka_ -Tsuna?"

Dumb. Slow-witted. Idiot.

 _What_.

"Are you serious?"

"Yes, I quite like that last one. _Baka_ -Tsuna. Fitting, isn't it? And it has a nice ring to it, too."

"No, it doesn't!"

"Baka-Tsuna it is."

Tsuna let out an outraged squawk.

Reborn snickered. "Did you say something, Baka-Tsuna?"

Was this real?

Was this his life now?

"That's not fair," Tsuna sputtered. "Don't go and decide by yourself –"

"I just did."

" _No_. Don't – don't call me –"

"Baka-Tsuna?" Reborn supplied helpfully.

"Yes! That! You can't call me that."

Reborn blinked. The air around him changed. He went still, his head cocked to the side as he watched Tsuna. "I _can't_ , huh."

"Right," Tsuna said firmly. "You can't."

"Is that an order?"

A _what_.

"I, hm, yes?"

"Oh." Reborn hummed. "I see."

And then he smiled, a jagged and ugly slash slipping his face in two.

Tsuna's objections died on his lips.

"Let's make one thing clear, little Vongola heir," Reborn said, calm and composed with a warning wrapped around his words like barbed wire. "There's only one thing that I hate more than badly made coffee, and it's people who think they are entitled to telling me what I can and can't do."

Heat bloomed in the air.

It slowly curled around Tsuna and ran down his back like a ghostly touch. A jolt of adrenaline shot through his system. He froze.

"So if I were you, I'd be very careful with what I say next. _Baka-Tsuna_."

The wave of heat moved up, pinching and snapping and just this side of hurting. A little part of Tsuna's hindbrain – the one that remembered living in caverns and hiding from the dark – started to shriek like a siren, something about _predator_ and _danger_ and _get out_.

That was it, he thought, half hysterical. That was how he was going to die and later, when people found his body, they would only shake their heads at the stupid teenager who just had to go and be a smart ass at the unstable psychopath with a gun.

Spots of light appeared across Tsuna's vision. He started to feel light-headed.

Reborn released him from his stare.

"Breathe," he said flatly. "Don't pass out on me. That would be troublesome to explain."

 _Breathe_.

Right. Sure.

Tsuna should probably do that.

Now.

Right now.

He gasped, gulping in oxygen and swaying a little.

Reborn laughed, a low, mocking chuckle that held no sympathy. The heat in the air vanished.

Tsuna was cold again.

When he looked up a moment later, Reborn was gone.

.

* * *

.

 ** _Reborn's POV_**

 _(first night after meeting Tsuna)._

 _._

Reborn didn't know what had made him stop on his way back to Rome, but if he absolutely had to name a reason, then he'd blame boredom.

He'd just finished a job down in the South – a retired old man, hardly worth the effort of pulling the trigger – when he'd remembered a line on a report he'd read the previous month. The document had been full of interesting details, such as Ottone Nougat's personal address and the name of his workplace. Some idiot had just left the file out there lying on a desk, and as far as Reborn was concerned, anything that wasn't locked away in an underground bunker was fair game.

And so.

Ottone Nougat.

Reborn remembered very well the grumpy asshole who'd stalked the headquarters' hallways more than a decade ago. He'd been snappy and powerful and terribly amusing in his foul temper.

Whispers of _The World's Greatest_ had barely started to trail in Reborn's wake back then, but he'd already struck a deal with Vongola Nono and his Guardians. He would have had to be blind and deaf _and_ stupid not to pick up on the tensions existing between the Storm Guardian and his younger sibling. The conflict between the two brothers had been something of a huge scandal after all, and in the end, Ottone had been chased away.

With his Flames no longer being pulled in two different directions, Nono had finally harmonized with Coyote. Ottone had found himself alone and bitter on the outskirt of the _Famiglia_ while everyone else rejoiced.

And then, because life could be shitty like that, the man had gone into Discord one month later and lost his Flames.

So, yes.

If Reborn had to choose, he'd say it was boredom that had drawn him to the ex-mafioso. An apathic sense of curiosity had made him stare at a map, remember a name and an address, and think, _why not_?

The idea was to have a look at Ottone's life, needle him a little, see what made him twitch, and maybe get some ammunitions to use against Coyote. That prickly asshole was just too uptight. Someone had to keep him dancing on his toes. It was Reborn's pleasure to take on such a responsibility.

Except that things hadn't gone as planned. Instead of a nice break in the monotony that was becoming his life, Reborn had stepped on a landmine.

A fucking _nuclear_ landmine.

Reborn's feet hung in the air, a two-story fall yawning wide open beneath him as he sat on the roof of a building that should have been demolished years ago.

Across the street, Sawada Call-Me-Tsuna Tsunayoshi opened a window. He awkwardly leaned out and proceeded to close his shutters for the night.

Reborn stared.

Tsuna – twin brother of Sawada Natsume, the future Decimo of the Vongola _Famiglia,_ and son of Sawada Iemitsu, current leader of the CEDEF – wobbled dangerously as if he'd just slipped on a slick surface.

It was almost too painful to watch.

The boy barely managed to yank the shutters close without falling off the window. He never checked the street for threats, never concerned himself with what was going on outside of his apartment, as if the world was safe, as if he had nothing to fear.

Reborn counted seven different ways he could have killed Tsuna during the past ten seconds. Probably more, if he'd felt properly motivated.

Lights turned on in the small room next to the one Tsuna had disappeared into – a bathroom, most likely. Shadows flickered as someone moved around.

Reborn watched from the opposite building and wondered what sort of moron let a Vongola heir live outside headquarter without supervision.

Iemitsu, he decided instantly. Whatever had happened, Iemitsu had to be involved.

Reborn had heard all about the man's family situation, about the abduction of his eldest son and the ensuing search. Who hadn't? The Vongolas had looked for the missing twin for years. Wars had been waged over his disappearance. People had been hurt. People had _died_.

And there he was, Sawada fucking Tsunayoshi, alone and unprotected and obscenely clueless. His own father's orders had probably played a huge part in the whole fiasco too, which meant Nono had to be aware of everything.

For the first time ever, Reborn wondered if the old man was going senile. A Sky of Timoteo's caliber going insane wasn't a pleasant thought to contemplate.

Something vibrated in his chest pocket.

Reborn dug out a phone from his suit. A name flashed on the small screen.

It was about damn time.

Accepting the call, Reborn gave a polite greeting.

Nono's voice answered with a curt, "Reborn."

Oh, this was going to be fun.

"I heard you met the boy."

"I did."

"Shit," Nono muttered, then louder, "You will tell no one about him, absolutely _no one_."

"Of course not," Reborn said, legs swinging lazily in emptiness.

He was a professional. Did that not mean anything to anyone?

"As per my contract with the Vongola, I cannot disclose private information that would endanger your _Famiglia_ without rendering null and void any agreement we may have – which would give you every right to put an end to our … partnership"

That sort of situation would be one suicidal kind of headache for everyone involved.

Reborn's hand drifted down to brush against the barrel of one of his guns.

"Good," Nono said, noise buzzing in the background. "I'm sending someone to pick you up right now. We'll meet tomorrow morning to discuss –"

"No," Reborn said.

"Excuse me?"

"I said no."

There was a long pause on the other side of the line, as if Nono was holding his phone out in front of him and staring at it incredulously.

"I'm not going anywhere," Reborn added, observing Tsuna's building.

The light in the bathroom was turned off. Reborn looked at the wall, guessing at the boy's movements behind it. Bullets imbued with Flames could easily go through those bricks. Tsuna was basically a plump sitting-duck waiting to be shot down.

Reborn could only shake his head.

Sloppy.

So sloppy of the Vongola.

"I think you're mistaken," Nono was saying in his ear. "Don't confuse an order with a request." The old man's voice went hard and unyielding, like shackles inside each word trying to snap around Reborn's neck. "You will do as you're told."

Obey.

Bow.

Submit.

Reborn snarled.

Anger, intense and all consuming, imploded in his bloodstream.

Sun Flames flared into existence. They slipped out in the air like a living shadow and hints of gold started to dance along the roof, alive and defensive and furious. They swirled around him, looking for a threat, for a target, and it would have taken but a thought to unleash them and wreck the whole street into smoking ruins.

Reborn let out a sharp breath. He grabbed his Flames and methodically pulled them back under control, inch by inch, bit by bit.

"Don't forget, Nono," he ground out. "I am not one of your men. I don't belong to your _Famiglia_ , and you don't get to give me orders. We are business partners, nothing more."

He spat that last word with disgust, his skin crawling.

No one would put a collar around his neck. _No one_. Reborn would kill and kill and bathe the world in blood before he allowed that to happen.

More silence on the other side of the line.

Reborn closed his eyes, centering himself. The last remnant of Sun Flames winked out of the air soon after. The world was once again dark and cold.

"Apologies," Nono said, tone stilted.

"Accepted," Reborn clipped.

"But I still don't think you understand the severity of the situation," Nono carried on. "This could have disastrous consequences."

Reborn scoffed. "You have the equivalent of a nuke wandering the countryside like a clueless civilian. The severity of the situation is fully understood."

"We can't allow the boy's location to be revealed."

"That was never my intentions."

"Then pray tell," Nono snapped, finally reaching the end of his tether, "what are your intentions then?"

You goddamn pain in the ass, he was too polite to say.

Reborn smirked. His eyes went back to Tsuna's shutters.

"I'm thinking about taking a couple of days off," he said. "Just kick back and relax for a while."

"That's out of the question," Nono immediately said.

"I'm not asking for permission."

Nono cursed. "Tsuna doesn't belong to the _Famiglia_ ," he said. "He has nothing to do with us. I plan to keep things that way for as long as possible."

Reborn blinked at the naive words. It was almost cute. Utterly ridiculous, but cute.

"You can't be serious."

"I'm deadly serious."

"That's never going to work," Reborn retorted. "Not when he looks like the spitting image of Primo."

"Very few people know what Giotto looked like. It'll be fine."

And now it was Reborn's turn to hold his phone in front of him and stare at it incredulously.

"What about the Decimo, then?" he asked. "Is he planning to hide his face for the rest of his life? Because that's his twin brother we're talking about."

"Dammit, Reborn! I have to try. For the boys and the Vongola."

This whole thing was just one big clusterfuck after another.

Reborn decided he'd done his part. If people insisted on shooting themselves in the foot despite his warnings, then it had nothing to do with him.

"I'm not leaving," he said.

Nono grumbled. "You're being particularly difficult about this." A wary pause. "Why?"

"Because I like watching other people messing up," Reborn drawled, mouth stretching into a mean smile. "It's entertaining and I'm bored."

Except that wasn't it.

Not _exactly_.

"Yes, I thought that would be something like this," Nono said, sounding like he might be rubbing a finger between his brows. "Short of sending my Guardians, I suppose there's nothing I can do to stop you."

"Not really," Reborn said even as a flat, icy voice murmured in his mind, _you would all die._

There was a brief lull in the conversation. Reborn watched Tsuna's apartment and could detect no movement inside.

"The boy. Tsunayoshi." Nono cleared his throat. "What do you think of him?"

Useless, was Reborn's first thought. Ignorant. Clumsy. Weak.

He felt his lips curl in disdain.

Tsuna was a walking disaster, one that stumbled and tripped on everything that stood in his way. Even staying still seemed like a health hazard, as if the ground had become his personal enemy somewhere along the line.

It was aggravating and strangely pitiful all at once.

And yet.

There was something about the boy. A call. A pull. Something that wasn't related to charisma or physical strength or even Flame attraction.

Reborn had taken one glance at Sawada Tsunayoshi, and he hadn't been able to look away.

It was... intriguing.

Leaving wasn't an option until he figured out what the hell was up with _that_.

"He's a civilian," Reborn answered diplomatically.

"Right." Nono snorted. "That's what we were aiming for."

Reborn rolled his eyes.

"I want a report," Nono said abruptly. "Every day without exception."

A compromise, then. The boss of the Vongola was extending an olive branch and Reborn wouldn't throw it back in his face.

Not right then anyway.

"That sounds reasonable," he said, thinking that no one was mentioning the length of said reports.

"And we will have to meet soon. This isn't something I can ignore."

"I'll check my schedule," Reborn said. "See if I can squeeze you in sometimes this month."

The sound of Nono's gritting his teeth was perfectly audible.

Reborn snickered.

"You're aware," the old man said tightly, "that Ottone is going to try to kill you every day. From what I've heard, he's grown rather protective of Tsunayoshi. And the temper of the woman he's living with isn't anything to sneeze at either."

Reborn grinned. "I already talked to them."

"Dare I even ask how it went?"

"No one died."

Nono sighed.

The sound betrayed more weariness than he probably knew.

So old already, Reborn distantly realized.

Nono was over seventy-four. The inheritance ceremony wasn't far off. Everything was about to change for the Vongola. It was highly doubtful that Tsuna would be spared.

"Just. Be careful, Reborn."

Reborn hung up without answering.

Where would the fun be if he stayed careful?

.

* * *

.

Guess who's a freaking moron and made a mistake when closing a word document? I lost thousands of words and a good chunk of this chapter had to be rewritten. It took a long time. I'm pissed off. This sucks.

Anyway.

So here we have Reborn : a stubborn asshole who hates being controlled. Right now he is bored, he's found a toy, and he won't go away until he's played with it all he wants. Bonus points if he gets to piss off the people trying to control him too.

Thank you for reading,

Rei.


	11. The hitman III

A feminine voice shattered the silence, shrill and outraged and loud enough to break every window in a ten-mile radius.

Lucio startled.

"What was that?" he asked, throwing a bewildered glance over his shoulder.

Tsuna stubbornly refused to look up, trying hard to ignore the feeling of impending doom creeping up his spine.

A shout.

 _Swearing_.

"Seriously." Lucio stood up, slipping his phone in his back pocket. "What's going on?"

Tsuna stared at the birthday cake he'd been putting frosting on. There was a cat drawn in its center. He'd used black berries to make the eyes – eyes that now seemed to glare at him reproachfully, as if to say that all this was entirely and undoubtedly his fault. He took off his apron.

Lucio had already started for the door. "I'll go –"

"Stay here." Tsuna snagged Lucio's shirt as he walked past him. "Wait for me. It's nothing."

Well, you know, if _nothing_ could ever apply to snarky assassins with a hat fetish.

Lucio frowned, clearly unconvinced.

"Just stay here," Tsuna insisted. "I'll be right back."

With one last warning glance, he slipped out of the kitchen, half expecting to find smokes and rubbles on the other side of the door.

The front shop was still intact. Nothing had been destroyed, no bodies littered the floor, and blood hadn't been spilled – but there stopped the good news.

Cinzi stood in the middle of the bakery, arms crossed and radiating enough hostility to launch a rocket into outer space. In front of her, Reborn had hopped on the counter and was sitting next to the register machine, apparently impermeable to the ferocious looks aimed his way, as if Cinzia's glares were dry peas bouncing off an armor.

The only witness to the scene was a customer in her early twenties. The young woman had frozen beside the display cases and appeared to be doing her best to melt in the background of cookies and croissants. Tsuna didn't blame her. He kind of wished the floor would open up and swallow him whole.

Cinzia caught sight of him.

"Tsuna, good timing," she gritted out, never breaking eye-contact with Reborn. "I'm going to kill this jackass. You can hold him while I stab him in the heart.

The young woman behind them gasped.

Tsuna turned toward her with a smile. "She's kidding."

"Am I?" Cinzia muttered.

For Christ's sake.

"We've talked about this."

Cinzia scoffed, teeth clenched and chin angled a couple of inches up in a move that clearly read, _don't get in my way, the fucker's already dead._

Tsuna widened his eyes pointedly. _Pissing off the dangerous psychopath with the guns is a bad idea._

Cinzia hesitated, hopefully understanding the general gist of Tsuna's message.

"Are we done?" Reborn cut in, sounding a little bored. For someone who was about to be violently murdered, the bastard didn't look nearly as concerned as he should be.

"No, we're not _done_ ," Cinzia hissed, whirling around. "You're putting my family in danger. That makes you a dead man walking."

The bell at the front door chimed. The young woman hurried away without a backward glance.

Nobody paid her any attention.

"You better watch your back," Cinzia continued, stabbing a finger toward Reborn. "Because if you so much as breathe wrong, I'll be burying your cold body somewhere dark and slimy. No one will find you until next century."

Reborn stared at her. "You're adorable."

"Ado –" Cinzia choked. " _Adorable?_ "

It was awe-inspiring, the amount of sheer _homicide_ she could put in her voice.

Reborn smiled, a curved line that just dripped with arrogance. "Barking is all good, but sometimes you need to actually _bite._ Back up your words with some actions."

Cinzia's nostrils flared.

Forget about biting, she looked ready to rip Reborn's throat out with her _teeth_. She'd go straight for the jugular, too. Tsuna could already see it, gore and all.

He panicked a little. "Stop making her angry!"

Reborn glanced at him with wide and innocent eyes. "I'm a gentleman. I don't go around making people angry."

"You." Cinzia let out a low snarl. "S _onovabitch._ "

And then she wheeled around and marched right out of the front shop.

The hairs on the back of Tsuna's neck stood on end. Unease crawled through his veins. Something wasn't right. This shouldn't have been so easy.

"Was it something I said?" Reborn asked dryly in the ensuing silence.

Twelve days.

Twelve days of this and Tsuna was ready to throw in the towel.

Ever since Reborn had come into their lives, he'd made a sport of winding up Ottone and Cinzia into daily fits of apoplectic rage. Like a kid with a stick who didn't know when to quit, he kept on poking and prodding as if he had absolutely no fear of the sleeping bear.

It was exhausting.

Tsuna had barely turned eighteen and already he felt like an old man on the bad side of his nineties – one that ran himself ragged trying to keep up with a bunch of crazy teenagers.

"I hate you so much right now," he mumbled. "So much."

Reborn laughed.

Tsuna wobbled over to the counter on legs that had turned the consistency of wet noodles.

"Aren't you getting bored?" he asked, a little desperate. "Don't you have more important things to do? Somewhere else?"

"I'm on a vacation," Reborn anwered easily.

The world shifted five inches to the side.

"Here?"

"Yes." Black eyes laughed at him, dark and mean. "So many places to visit. So many interesting people."

Bullshit.

He probably just wanted to see how much he could mess with Tsuna before something snapped. The psycho wouldn't lose a wink of sleep over it. He'd get a good laugh out of the whole disaster and move on into the sunset without hesitation or regret.

Vacations?

No way.

"Tsuna?" Lucio's voice suddenly came from the kitchen. "What are you doing?"

Hinges let out a little squeak as someone pushed the door open. Footsteps headed toward them.

Tsuna closed his eyes.

The day was just getting better and better, wasn't it?

"I told you to wait for me."

Lucio walked closer. "Cinzia looked real mad," he said, which could only mean, _I ran away as fast as possible._

Fair enough.

Cinzia on a warpath was a real terror. You either took cover or suffered the consequences.

Tsuna nodded, hands clenching into tight fists. This could still work out. The trick was to act nonchalant. To stay calm and composed. Lucio didn't need to know – he wouldn't know. Everything was under control.

And then Lucio got his first good look at Reborn. He paused mid-step.

"Oh, him," Tsuna said lightly. "He's just –"

"Which _Famiglia_ are you from?" Lucio asked Reborn with a scowl.

So much for nonchalance.

Tsuna's lips parted in shock.

What.

The hell.

Tsuna gave Reborn's body a quick once-over, wondering what had betrayed him as a murderous asshole with a penchant for late-night stalking. Nothing jumped at him, but again, he wasn't an expert.

Reborn raised an unimpressed brow. "Who's asking?"

Lucio squared his shoulders. "Name's Lucio. I'm with the Becci _Famiglia_. You've probably heard of us."

"Ah, yes," Reborn drawled. "The Becci _Famiglia_. Of course. Very famous."

The mocking edge in his voice was about as subtle as a stampeding herd of buffaloes.

Lucio certainly didn't miss it. He bristled. "What about you? What about your _Famiglia_?"

"I'm an independant contractor," Reborn said. "I don't have a one."

"Huh."

"Is it a problem?"

Lucio turned away without answering. "Don't trust him," he told Tsuna.

Well, yeah. Obviously.

"I'm serious. Guys like him are dangerous."

Tsuna's eyebrows creased. "Like him?"

"You know, people without a _Famiglia,"_ Lucio explained, glaring at Reborn. "Thieves and liars who wouldn't know loyalty even if it bit them in the ass."

That sounded suspiciously like a case of the pot calling the kettle black.

Thieves and liars, indeed.

"Doesn't that apply to everyone in the mafia?" Tsuna asked, not entirely squashing the edge of bitterness in his voice.

Lucio shot him an irritated glance. "Of course not. A _Famiglia_ has a code and honor." He pointed at Reborn. "He doesn't."

Reborn looked at Tsuna. "Is this moron your friend?"

"I … guess?"

"I am," Lucio said. "And if you hurt Tsuna, I'll –"

"You'll what?"

"I'll make you regret it," Lucio said firmly. "Independent contractor, my ass. Don't use big words you're too stupid to understand, you little piece of –"

Tsuna slapped a hand over Lucio's mouth.

Reborn blinked. A genuine expression of bemusement slipped over his face.

Silence stretched.

"He didn't mean it," Tsuna said.

Lucio tried to squirm free. "I –"

" _Shut up_."

"No, let him speak," Reborn said, recovering. His lips curled into a smile. It wasn't a nice expression. "Go on. What were you going to call me?"

Lucio opened his mouth.

Cinzia kicked open the kitchen door and stormed into the front shop. She was carrying Ottone's gun.

"Adorable, was it?" she whispered, taking aim.

And the universe went to hell in a handbasket.

.

* * *

.

The man was completely normal.

Clad in faded jeans and a white button-up shirt, he looked like any healthy person in his early forties who regularly exercised and watched his diet. His mustache was carefully trimmed, and his blond hair displayed just the acceptable amount of grey for a man his age. Nothing about his appearance screamed criminal or suspicious or _mafia_.

Appearances were a lie.

Tsuna glared.

The red clay tiles under his stomach were starting to feel uncomfortable. He squirmed a little, careful to stay out of sight.

Across the street, in the dark alley three floors below, the man lit a cigarette. A small flame flickered to life. Smoke drifted into the night.

Tsuna lowered himself onto the roof. He rested his forehead on the back of his hands and settled in for the wait. He was used to it. Hiding in the dark while following strangers had become something familiar over the years. Tsuna was weak like that.

The memory of Sawada Iemitsu standing in an empty parking lot had stayed sharp and cutting for a long time. At first, Tsuna had wanted nothing to do with the man, his subordinates, or his _Famiglia_. They'd thrown him away. They'd said _sorry_. He didn't need them.

Still, he couldn't help but wonder.

Would they come back? Or would they just forget?

Months had passed by, and the stinging edge of Sawada's betrayal had dulled to a quiet throbbing, something sore and scarred that was impossible to ignore. The Vongola had kept on sending their men. They followed him, they watched him, and slowly, inexorably, Tsuna had started to watch them back again.

Tsuna shifted, groaning as numbness spread in his limbs.

The roof was gently slopping downward and one careless move would send him careening into emptiness. Getting up there had been tricky, but the reward was more than satisfying. Tsuna had an excellent vantage point into the dark alley and he was completely invisible to anyone on ground level. Unless the Vongola decided to parachute their people right above his head, he should be fine.

The man breathed out another cloud of thick smoke. The end of his cigarette glowed orange.

"Looks like we're going to be stuck here for a while."

Tsuna almost toppled off the roof.

He caught himself before plunging to a premature death and scrambled away from the edge.

"Reborn," he hissed. "How long?"

Reborn was sitting on the balustrade of the rooftop terrace on his right, looking disgustingly comfortable for someone perched thirty feet into the air.

"Guess."

Tsuna had been lying on that roof for more than a quarter of an hour.

"Fifteen minutes?"

"Wrong. Guess again."

Only one possible answer then. Goddamn stalker.

"Since I left," Tsuna said, somewhat resigned.

Reborn's face turned smug. He leaned forward, chin on one hand as his attention slipped past Tsuna to the smoking man. He let out a sharp _tsk_. "Anyone could put a bullet through his brain and he'd never know where it came from."

"Nobody wants to shoot him. He's fine."

"No. He's supposed to be professional. That means he should notice the bumbling idiot who's been trailing him for more than half an hour."

"I didn't–"

"Subtlety isn't exactly your forte, is it?"

Tsuna cringed.

"And that's only the tip of the iceberg." Reborn started to count on his fingers. "You're loud and clumsy. You let your guard down so easily it's basically non-existent and you're unable to lie. In fact, if it weren't for your ability to brew a descent espresso, I'd say you were completely useless."

Death via extreme mortification.

Tsuna was going to die from embarrassment and the whole world would laugh at him so hard he'd hear it from the other side.

"It's rather concerning," Reborn continued, merciless. "Like watching a toddler with a gun stumbling into traffic."

"Stop it," Tsuna groaned. "I get it. You can stop now."

"They do say that acknowledging you have a problem is the first step in fixing the problem."

Asshole.

Now, he was just rubbing it in.

"Are you crying?"

" _No_."

The corners of Reborn's mouth twitched. He looked down into at the narrow alley. "How long do you plan to stay here?"

And suddenly, abruptly, Tsuna realized that a fedora-wearing hitman was carelessly sitting on a balustrade next to him, right there, in plain view, his profile stark and clear in the light cast by a nearby lamppost.

"Get down." Tsuna frantically grabbed one of Reborn's feet and tugged. "Hurry."

"Hm?"

"He's going to see you." Tsuna pulled harder, dreading the possibility of the mafioso looking up and noticing the two of them. Tsuna didn't want Sawada to know that he cared, that he was pathetic enough to crawl back to them for a small chance at catching a glimpse of blue eyes and blond hair.

" _Get down_."

Reborn finally moved. He lowered himself next to Tsuna, his body flowing down from the balustrade as easily as if he'd merely stepped off the sidewalk.

"He's not going to see me," Reborn said with a derisive glance below. "We've already established that this imbecile isn't the sort to look up and check the rooftops for threats."

Tsuna peeked at his mark. "If you don't mind, I'd rather not take any chance."

Reborn huffed, the sound clearly telegraphing how much he thought of Tsuna's paranoia. He rolled onto his back, putting his hands under his nape to cushion his head while crossing his legs at the ankles.

"Is this something that happens often?"

"What?"

"This ridiculous little spy game of yours, _Baka_ -Tsuna. Is it a regular thing?"

Tsuna fidgeted. "Not really," he mumbled.

It had been more than half a year since he'd found himself following one of Sawada's men. He usually didn't last much longer than that before giving in. A sense of morbid curiosity would slowly fill him, a _drip-drip_ sensation like a bleeding wound that echoed loudly enough to pull at his attention until there was no fighting it anymore.

Tsuna clenched his jaw.

Reborn watched him intently for a moment. It rather felt like a snipper aiming at him with his scope. Just as tension started to gather in Tsuna's shoulders, Reborn snorted and looked away.

"Vongola idiots," he muttered, lowering his fedora over his face.

Tsuna didn't even want to know.

Down in the alley, the mafioso was starting his second cigarette.

"I could shoot him for you," Reborn said idly. "Problem solved."

Why on earth –

"You can't shoot him," Tsuna whispered harshly.

Reborn didn't move, didn't react in any way. "I _can't_?"

Shit.

"Please." Tsuna figuratively backpedaled so fast he almost bit off his own tongue. "I mean, _please_ , don't shoot anyone."

The sensation of stillness in the air faded.

"You're learning," Reborn said, almost cheerfully. "There's still hope for you, _Baka_ -Tsuna."

Hope.

Hah.

Tsuna let out a shaky breath. Silence descended over the two of them, and he was more than happy to leave it undisturbed. Seconds stretched into minutes. Just as Tsuna's eyelids started to grow heavy with sleep, a car slowed in front of the alley.

A woman got out, sweeping a vigilant glance at her surroundings. The other mafioso dropped his cigarette butt on the pavement and stepped on it.

What followed was a process Tsuna had witnessed numerous times before. A folded report was handed over, along with a phone and the pictures taken over the last few days. A quick exchange was murmured between the man and the woman, one Tsuna was way too far to hear, and then the woman hopped back behind the wheel. The car's engine purred as she drove down the street. The man watched its rear lights disappear around a corner before heading away in the opposite direction.

And.

That was that.

No Sawada, no Coyote, no familiar faces. Just two strangers going through the motions of a boring job.

As usual, it felt strangely anticlimactic.

Tsuna turned over and flopped onto his back, too. A vast expense of star-dotted darkness stared back at him. The moon glowed bright and full over the world. There was no wind, no clouds. It was a perfect summer night.

Tsuna wanted to scream. It was absurd. Of course, Sawada hadn't come. He'd never once showed up in the last six years. But that was alright. Entirely, perfectly alright.

" _Baka_ -Tsuna."

Reborn's voice startled him. Mentally shifting gear, Tsuna refocused on the present.

"Yes?"

"I want an espresso."

Tsuna slowly looked at the hitman's profile.

"What."

It wasn't a question, not really. More like disbelief underlined by a healthy amount of _what_ - _the-hell_.

Reborn stretched like a lazy cat, then sat up. "I need caffeine."

"It's the middle of the night," Tsuna felt the need to say.

"Your point being?"

Answers flashed through Tsuna's mind, from an indignant _you crazy addict_ , to _get lost, I want to go to bed and wallow in misery_. He didn't say anything though. The words remained stuck in his throat, most likely strangled to death by his survival instincts before they could get him killed.

Reborn started for the window Tsuna had used to clamber onto the roof. His movements were smooth and confident, not at all like the clumsy half-crawl, half-wriggle Tsuna was reduced to each time his feet left the ground. Call him petty, but Tsuna kind of wanted to trip the jerk and see if he could remain graceful while crashing head-fist into a bricked wall.

As if sensing his uncharitable thoughts, Reborn paused on the window sill to fix him with an impatient stare.

"You have one minute to get down," he said, disappearing into the abandoned house like a wraith. It was sort of creepy. "Don't make me wait."

Tsuna could only gape.

A shiver suddenly ran down his back. Goosebumps appeared on his forearms. Tingles ran through his hands and gathered in his fingertips, sharp and painful.

Strange.

He'd been fine moments ago, hadn't even felt a little cold.

Tsuna's mouth twisted.

Obviously, he'd been fine. There'd been a literal Sun keeping him company for almost an hour.

" _Baka-Tsuna!_ "

"Yes, yes."

Tsuna rolled his eyes and started to carefully make his way across the roof.

.

* * *

.

The alarm system let out a soft _beep-beep_ as it was deactivated.

Tsuna pulled the door open and entered _Little Trinci_. He flipped the lights on and paused for a moment, straining to hear any sign of activity from upstairs. He would die if Cinzia or Ottone discovered Reborn had broken in with his help. They would definitely brand Tsuna a traitor and have him hanged for high treason.

Silence held the bakery in its grasp.

Nothing moved in the apartment on the second floor.

Tsuna relaxed.

Reborn walked past him without a care in the world. He grabbed a chair and dragged it toward the counter before turning it around to straddle it.

"Remember what I told you about the temperatures," he said, arms crossed over the back of the chair. "Ninety degrees is the bare minimum or the coffee will taste under extracted."

Tsuna didn't scowl, but only because he was tired enough to fall asleep on his feet.

"Just keep your voice low," he grumbled before setting to work.

He turned the coffee machine on, moving on autopilot, his body following the familiar step of a dance he'd performed so many times before it didn't need any active input from his brain. Soon, the machine was humming softly, a strong and hearty aroma wafting up into the air. Tsuna watched in a sleepy daze as hot liquid trickled from the spout, steaming and glittering like a dark elixir. He drummed his fingers against the counter top, swaying a little, wanting to be in his bed so much it _hurt_.

Something thudded against the ceiling.

Tsuna didn't react. The house was old. Some noise was to be expected. He turned off the machine when the cup got full and grabbed a tiny plastic spoon.

Another series of slow _thud-thud_ above his head. The walls moaned and creaked. The sounds moved steadily toward the back of the apartment and – wait a minute. Were those footsteps?

Panic slammed into Tsuna.

He dove for the wall, hastily killed the light, then froze, holding his breath.

It had to be Ottone. Cinzia slept like the dead through the whole night and never woke up before dawn.

 _Dammit_.

Ottone walked toward the little kitchen on the second floor. A faucet was turned on. Tsuna could imagine the man standing in front of the sink, drinking a glass of water, the pale light coming through the window casting shadows on his face.

The footsteps echoed again. They headed away toward the bedrooms.

For a long moment, Tsuna didn't dare to move a single muscle.

So close. Too close.

Determined to kick Reborn out as soon as possible, Tsuna grabbed the hitman's coffee and quickly brought it to him.

Reborn was leaning back in his chair, balancing on the back feet with ease. "Took you long enough."

" _Shh_." Tsuna threw a cagey look at the ceiling. "Here. Hurry up and leave."

Reborn looked at the cup Tsuna was holding out and sniffed.

"It's cold."

Tsuna glanced down. "It's not."

"Start over." Reborn waved him away. "I'm not drinking this."

Really?

Grinding his teeth, Tsuna turned around and –

Words spilled out of his mouth.

"It's not cold."

It was unexpected, the small spark of defiance that suddenly came alive in his chest. Perhaps it was because Tsuna was so very tired he was half-delirious, or maybe he had a suicidal streak the size of the Great Canyon no one had noticed before.

Whatever the reason, Tsuna found himself reaching inside, in that place deep between bone and soul where small fireflies of orange floated. The ice was biting, the silence ringing, and Tsuna _reached out_. The dots of lights swirled toward him, like snowflakes dancing on an invisible wind. For the first time in ten years, he caught one, then two, and instinctively moved them into his hands.

Steam rose from the cup. The liquid inside turned scalding hot within seconds.

Reborn jerked upright, feet slamming onto the floor.

Tsuna's eyes widened in horror.

Because.

He was a fucking _idiot_.

"Here," he forced out, the blood drained from his face. "That's good enough, right?"

Reborn watched him, unmoving. His lips parted but no sound came out. He just sat there, very still and very, _very_ stiff.

Sweat slid down Tsuna's back. "Come on. I'm tired."

Reborn twitched. He slowly accepted the cup and held it in a tight grip. He took a sip.

Another moment of charged silence.

"It's good," he said.

Tsuna tucked his shaking hands out of sight. "Was that a compliment?"

Reborn didn't look away from the cup.

"I think it was. Careful. You're getting soft –"

"Don't _push_ it, _Baka_ -Tsuna," Reborn snapped.

Something big and agitated stretched out around him. A wave of heat washed over the front shop, swirling and prowling.

Tsuna stumbled back a step. Then another one.

Reborn's glower didn't lessen. The line of his shoulders stayed rigid.

Tsuna was going to throw up.

"E-excuse me for a minute," he stammered.

He quickly walked away toward the kitchen. The door swung shut behind him. The weight of Reborn's attention faded.

Tsuna collapsed against one of the big fridges and slid down to the floor. He shoved both hands into his hair and gave a hard tug.

"What the fuck," he whispered, staring in horror at the tiles. "What the _fuck,_ Tsuna."

He'd used his Flames.

The small flickers that had escaped from the cracks in the ice were nothing compared to the sheer firestorm trapped beneath its frosty surface, but they were still Flames – they were still _Sky_ Flames. There was no way in hell someone like Reborn had missed it.

Tsuna buried his face in his arms.

Ten years that he hadn't touched the fire inside, and the one time he slipped, the one time he made a mistake, it had to be in front of the Best Hitman in World.

Tsuna bit his lips to swallow the giggle of hysteria creeping up his throat.

He – he should probably get up. Go back to his apartment to think and regroup. To _plan_.

Tsuna grabbed his terror by the throat and shoved it down. There would be time enough later to have a melt-down. But not now. Not here.

Tsuna stood up on shaky legs, feeling light-headed.

The front shop was empty when he cautiously poked his head around the door a minute later.

Reborn was gone.

He'd left his cup on the counter.

It was empty.

.

* * *

.

Okay, this chapter fought me every step of the way, and I'm _still_ not happy with it. But now I can't even look at it and I just want to get on with the rest of the story, so here it is. Whatever.

Thanks for reading.

See you next time :)


	12. Rumor

"What?"

Cinzia choked and spat out a mouthful of soda all over the table. Ottone barely managed to snatch his plate away before it got sprinkled with coke.

" _Goddammit_ , Cinzia."

" _Excuse me_. You can't drop a bomb like that and expect no reac –"

"I expect you to keep your saliva to yourself!"

Tsuna scouted his chair away from the line of fire. He hadn't reacted fast enough and could only wipe the sticky mess in front of him while making a face.

Yuck.

Ottone put his plate back on the table. "This is fucking disgusting.

"Don't be a baby." Cinzia clearly didn't care for the man's temper. "What did you just say?"

"You heard me loud and clear."

"Indulge me. This kind of information is worth repeating. Isn't it, Tsuna?"

"Don't ask me," Tsuna said, a little annoyed at the pair. "I don't even know who that Aaron person is."

"Aaron Lee," Cinzia said, staring at Ottone. "The leader of the Chinese Triads."

And now it was Tsuna's turn to choke.

His eyes popped wide open.

"The Chinese Triads? He's coming to Italy?"

"Yeah." Ottone picked up his fork and started to eat again. "That was my reaction, too."

Cinzia watched him like a hawk. " _And?_ "

"And nothing. Coyote said they'll be gone by the end of the month."

Coyote had said, _huh_.

Tsuna winced.

He could easily guess how that particular conversation must have gone. It would have begun as usual, with Ottone demanding Reborn to be shipped off to Guatemala. Coyote would have answered that they were working on it, and _shut up already, you fucking idiot, I'm busy_. Add to that the topic of the Chinese Triads and it was safe to assume that Ottone's cellphone had ended up smashed against a wall before either brother had hung up.

"Come on, you must know more," Cinzia insisted.

"Drop it." Ottone's eyes flickered in Tsuna's direction. "It doesn't concern us."

Except that now, it sort of did.

"No," Tsuna said. "I want to know."

Ottone and Cinzia were aware of how much he didn't want to be involved with the mafia. They'd always steered clear of the topic, both to respect his wishes and because they also had no desire to go back to their old lives. The family they'd built together didn't revolve around guns and Flames and fights. They were happy with being civilians.

Reborn's appearance had changed everything.

"Tell us," Tsuna said firmly.

Ottone looked at him. He'd never dodged Tsuna's questions before. He didn't start now.

"Ask," he said.

Tsuna fired the first question that came to his mind. "Why are they coming?"

"Nono's going to retire soon," Ottone answered. "That means the Decimo will take over in a matter of months. This is a visit of courtesy."

"Shouldn't they just come for the actual inheritance ceremony then?"

Ottone shook his head. "That's only for Nono's allies."

Tsuna frowned. "But they're not enemies."

Or wait.

Were they?

Ottone grimaced. "Technically, they're not, but that doesn't mean they're in a formal alliance. It's more like an agreement of mutual non-aggression."

That sounded wonderful.

Tsuna sighed. "Timoteo must be busy."

"Busy?" Cinzia let out a laugh from the other side of the table. She put her chin in her palm and grinned. "I bet right now the old man's precious headquarter is like a beehive that's been set on fire. He probably hasn't slept in a week."

Yeah, well.

Tsuna grimly stabbed a meatball with his fork. Call him cold-hearted, but he couldn't summon a drop of sympathy for Timoteo.

Cinzia looked back at Ottone. "Since we're gossiping, you might as well spill the rest."

"What rest?"

"Like when, exactly. And who, and where, and–"

"How the fuck would I know all that?"

"Your brother. _Obviously_."

Ottone scowled. "Aaron will be arriving next week and he'll pack up and go back to China by the end of July. That's it. End of the story."

"That's it, he says." Cinzia rolled her eyes so hard Tsuna feared she might strain something. "End of the story, he says."

"Shut up." Ottone glared at her. "You're welcome to make a call yourself if you're so fucking curious."

"Don't play stupid. My old contacts wouldn't know more than the Storm Guardian. This situation is very unusual. Security must be a nightmare."

"Unusual?" Tsuna piped in.

Cinzia nodded, distracted. "The last time we got a visit from the Triads was over a decade ago."

Tsuna stared.

That ... seemed like a ridiculously long time.

"People in positions of power don't like changes," Ottone explained upon seeing Tsuna's blank expression. "Why would they want to mess with the status quo when it's working well enough for them? It'd be annoying and dangerous and would require a lot of fucking work."

Cinzia smiled like a shark. "And we all know that if there's one thing men don't like, it's hard work."

Ottone pointed a fork at her. "Cut the crap."

"Did that hit a little too close to home?"

"I still don't understand," Tsuna interrupted. "Nono's going to retire, sure, but so what? It doesn't sound like they were very close anyway."

Ottone shrugged. "It doesn't matter. This is just a big show."

"A bit like a peacock fight," Cinzia added. "Asshole posturing and ruffled feathers all around with lots of shouting."

What.

"Look at how big my guns are," Cinzia continued, popping a piece of bread in her mouth. "See how many men I've got working for me. Watch how hard I can punch you in the face with my Flames if I need to."

Ottone rubbed a finger between his brows. He looked as if he'd bitten into a lemon. Tsuna kind of agreed with the sentiment. Imagining Timoteo of the Vongola engaging in any sort of pissing contest was almost impossible. This whole thing was a huge headache waiting to blow up in everybody's face.

Tsuna sneezed.

"What about their people?" Cinzia asked. "Who is Aaron bringing with him?"

Ottone grunted. "Apparently, he's taking his son."

"Really." A pause. "The boy's what? Ten years old?"

"Sounds about right."

"That's starting a bit early with the grooming."

"They always do," Ottone clipped.

Tsuna stared down at the table, hands clenching into fists.

Cinzia glanced at him.

"Well," she said lightly. "At least, they won't have to worry about Reborn crashing the party and making a mess of everything. The asshole's still sticking to Tsuna like white on rice."

Ottone let out a snort. "We should send them a babysitting fee. This meeting's like a powder keg waiting to explode. We're doing them a favor by keeping the bastard away."

Tsuna smiled wryly.

Because they really were, weren't they?

It was easy to see how someone with Reborn's personality might put a strain on international negotiations. An image started to form in Tsuna's mind – blood and gore raining down from the sky while a raging fire burned everything in the background. He could certainly picture Reborn in that vision, thriving on the chaos and having the time of his life while shooting anything that moved.

Tsuna sneezed again.

Cinzia's eyes zeroed in on him. They narrowed.

Tsuna hastily leaned away before she could try to touch his forehead. "I'm fine," he said. "I'm not sick."

Being sick meant doctors and medications and –

( _– slash. Scream. Blood. "Healing rate is not up to par with what we'd anticipated." Slash. Blood. Scream –)_

No.

Absolutely not.

.

* * *

.

"This is getting redundant. All you ever do is work, eat, and sleep. It's almost not worth the effort of getting out of bed in the morning."

Tsuna didn't bother with more than a half-hearted start.

The fact that Reborn was sweeping in the very second he walked out of Little Trinci wasn't a surprise anymore. So what if Tsuna had stayed over for dinner? So what if the movie they'd watched afterward had ended very late? Obviously that wouldn't be enough to deter his stalker.

Tsuna shoved his hands in his pockets and started to head back home. Reborn fell into step beside him, his feet tapping a sharp rhythm on the concrete.

"If you're that bored, you can leave, you know," Tsuna told him as they walked. "No one's forcing you to be here."

"I'll stay."

"Really, you don't have to."

"It's fine. I wouldn't want you to miss me."

Tsuna's fingers clenched around his keys. The struggle not to chuck them at Reborn's head was real.

They took a crosswalk and turned right at the next intersection. Further ahead, loud music pulsed from one of the houses along the street. A group of four young men stumbled out the front door. Laughter and boisterous conversations spilled into the night.

Tsuna ducked his head down to avoid eye-contact. It was well past midnight and the men looked big and strong. He didn't need to worry though. The group shuffled past Tsuna and Reborn without paying them any attention.

Tsuna let out a small breath.

Next to him, Reborn turned around to watch the drunks's backs, expression thoughtful. "And here I thought we would finally get some entertainment."

Unbelievable.

Tsuna picked up his pace before the crazy bastard could start a massacre. "We don't need entertainment. Boring and safe are just fine."

"How _dull_."

"Not everyone can have an exciting life like you."

"Of course not. No one's like me. I'm unique."

"True," Tsuna mumbled under his breath. "So very true."

"Sarcasm." Reborn slid him a pointed look. "Getting confident lately, aren't you, Baka-Tsuna?"

Dammit.

"Am not," Tsuna muttered, cheeks growing red.

Reborn snickered.

And smoothly stepped in Tsuna's path.

It was either screech to a halt or slam head-first into the hitman. Tsuna tripped over his own feet to avoid a collision.

"I've been thinking," Reborn said, generously not mentioning the way Tsuna almost face-planted on the pavement. "Vacations are all good but that doesn't mean I shouldn't do something productive with my time while I'm here."

Tsuna recovered his balance. "Something productive," he parroted dumbly.

Reborn smiled, small and mean with just a little bloodthirst showing through.

Tsuna shrank back.

"Some aspects of your education have been severely lacking." Reborn paused delicately, as if savoring the moment. "I'll help you catch up."

A trap.

This had to be a trap.

"You want to help me. You."

Reborn arched a brow. "Are you doubting my capabilities?"

 _Yes_.

"No. I just don't need –"

"You really do."

A trap with fangs _and_ claws.

"I'm not a mafioso," Tsuna protested. "What's the point of–"

"What's the point?" Reborn's eyes suddenly sharpened. "To prepare you for the future. To make you smarter and stronger. Take your pick, Baka-Tsuna, because you need so much help right now it's amazing you're still breathing."

Tsuna stared. He clutched his keys like a shield in front of him.

Just now, there had been a certain amount of steel underlying Reborn's words. They had carried hidden meanings and stifled anger and iron-cold determination dipped in resentment. Something Tsuna had said had set him off. He needed to figure out what it was and never, ever mention it again. Whatever was bothering Reborn, Tsuna didn't want to touch it with a ten-foot pole and a bio-hazard suit.

Because wasn't it what everybody needed in their lives? A hitman with _issues_.

Alright.

Time to change the subject.

Tsuna quickly stepped around Reborn. "I'm not interested, but thank you for the offer."

He hurried away, and after a beat, Reborn followed him. He didn't insist, didn't try to argue his case. Maybe that should have raised all sorts of red flags, but Tsuna only felt relieved. Talking about anything mafia-related with Reborn sressed him out like nothing else, especially since _That Time_.

For some incomprehensible reasons, Reborn was pretending nothing had happened that night in the bakery. Tsuna had braced himself for a disaster, for an argument or even a fight. He'd made himself sick with worry, hadn't slept for days, and yet here they were, one week later, still acting as if Tsuna hadn't outed himself like the biggest idiot to ever walk the Earth.

It was driving him nuts. There was a metaphorical sword hanging over the back of his neck, shiny and deadly, and the wait for it to come swinging down was maddening.

Tsuna glared at Reborn from the corners of his eyes.

Should he just ask? Confess and demand an explanation? A reaction _?_

Yes, I have Sky Flames, he imagined himself shouting in the middle of the street. I am a Sky and I'm broken and I hate everything you stand for. What are you going to do about it?

Tsuna clenched his jaw and didn't say anything at all.

It was probably blackmail, he decided, not for the first time. Maybe this _help_ Reborn was talking about was actually an elaborate way of backing him in a corner and –

Tsuna sneezed.

Once. Twice.

He shivered.

"Cold?" Reborn asked casually.

Another shiver, followed by a trail of goosebumps.

"It's just freezing tonight," Tsuna muttered grumpily, wishing he'd brought another sweater.

A moment of thoughtful silence next to him.

Then,

"Is that so," Reborn said mildly.

Tsuna's heart skipped a beat.

"I mean–"

"You mean that you're freezing. In the middle of summer."

Dark eyes focused on the side of Tsuna's head. They stared as if he were a worm wriggling under a microscope.

Tsuna looked away with a frown.

The ice was particularly biting tonight. He could feel it shifting deep inside, straining against the cracks that were steadily widening with each passing day. His little specks of orange fire weren't nearly enough to fight it off. How could they? The ice had been born from powerful Sky Flames. Mere sparks could never stand up to that.

A wave of heat abruptly hit Tsuna.

He stumbled.

Warm air gathered around him, hovering just over his clothes like a second layer of protection that felt concerned and annoyed all at once. It didn't pinch, it didn't snap, and just stayed there, warm and strangely careful. This was nothing like the heat Reborn seemed to generate naturally all day long. There was something deliberate in his Flames now, something calculated and intentional that made a world of difference.

Tsuna blinked, turning toward Reborn. The hitman stared back at him, face wiped clean of emotions and eyes glinting with a hint of Sun.

Ah, Tsuna thought, struck speechless.

That was strangely unexpected, wasn't it?

Reborn showing kindness.

Tsuna didn't know how to react.

A small part of his brain that hadn't been fried by shock wondered if he should say thank you. Probably not. He might start babbling like an idiot if he mentioned the heavy sensation of Sun Flames cradling him in a warm and cozy bubble.

Tsuna glanced down. The skin of his hands was pink and healthy. He flexed his fingers. No pain or discomfort. This was the warmest he had felt in years.

"Better?" Reborn asked.

"I, huh." Tsuna picked up his jaw from the ground. "Yes."

Reborn nodded, apparently satisfied –

– and something dark flashed at the edge of Tsuna's vision.

He threw himself backward and fell on the ground.

 _Bam!_

A foot slammed into the sidewalk where he'd just been standing.

"Oh?" Reborn looked back at him from over a shoulder with a predatory expression. He smiled. "Good instincts."

Tsuna gaped at the cracks in the cement. "W-wha –"

"Didn't I say I was going to help you?"

The crazy asshole!

"This is not hel–"

"Your opinion is irrelevant." Reborn smoothed out a wrinkle on his jacket then started to walk toward Tsuna, slow and relaxed and absolutely terrifying. "Get your head in the game. Tonight's subject is _dodging_.

Dodging.

Hah.

Tsuna was going to _die_.

"Wait, wait, wait." He scurried away, pointing at the destroyed concrete. "That could have been my head."

"Then you'd better start moving faster."

And Reborn's foot came flying at Tsuna's head again.

He ducked and rolled away with a yelp. The dark shoe crashed into the sidewalk with a resounding bang. Tsuna stared, mute with horror, acutely aware that he'd been inches away from being crushed to bloody mush.

"Good. But not good enough."

Reborn spun around and his other leg came up like a whip. The kick collided with Tsuna's ribs. Pain exploded in his side. He went skidding over dry cement, the fabric of his pants tearing and ripping. The momentum carried him half-way across the road and Tsuna didn't wait to come to a complete stop before jumping up to his feet and taking off like a goddamn rabbit.

Something small whizzed by his head. Little bits of bricks rained down around him. Grey smoke drifted out of a small hole on the wall on his right. Silver glinted mockingly from inside the narrow fissure.

Was that a bullet?

"Are you shooting at me?" Tsuna yelled, though it was more of a high-pitched shriek vibrating with disbelief. "With a _gun_?"

Reborn hadn't moved from the spot where he'd kicked Tsuna. He was too far away to make out his face, but his voice was definitely gleeful as he called back, "Get serious, Baka-Tsuna." A small and sleek object was held in Tsuna's direction. "I'm going to stop holding back now."

Shit. Shit. _Shit_.

Tsuna ran the hell away.

He sprinted down the street, then a second one. Soon, he started to sound a wheeze away from asphyxia, but he didn't slow down – he didn't dare. The series of quiet _ping-ping-ping_ that whispered through the night kept him going.

The ten-minute walk from Little Trinci had never felt so long.

He made it back to his place, somehow, zigzagging between parked cars and fenced trees like a crazy line-backer. Just as he pelted around the corner of his building, a bullet grazed the tip of his left ear. He squeaked at the stinging sensation, tripped on thin air, and almost crashed into a bricked wall. A quick twist to the side barely saved him from a broken nose. His shoulder took the brunt of the impact.

 _Ow_.

A small laugh echoed from the shadows.

"Oh, fuck you," Tsuna hissed.

He ran up the outside stairs leading to his apartment, his whole body drenched in sweat that trickled down the sides of his face and burned his eyes. Half blind, he stabbed his key in the keyhole. One turn and the lock clicked open.

Tsuna flung himself inside, slamming the door behind him hard enough that it rattled on its hinges. He locked it, took one step back, and then simply stood there, panting.

One minute passed. Then another one.

Silence rang loudly, disturbed only by the sound of Tsuna's gasping. The door remained untouched, tall and strong. No one had broken it down to splinters yet.

Tsune felt something like hope flare in his chest – which, in hindsight, was very naive. Because since when had Reborn let anything as puny as a lock stand in his way?

He came in through the window.

"Not bad for a first time."

Tsuna jolted around. "Reborn!"

"Were you expecting someone else?" Reborn drawled, sitting on the window sill as if it were a throne.

"This is the third floor–"

"Is it?"

" _Yes!_ "

Reborn straightened his tie. "We need to work on your situational awareness. Running into a wall is just too pathetic." He watched as Tsuna wobbled over to his bed on shaky legs. "And stop being dramatic, this barely qualified as a warm-up."

An alarming implication to say the least.

"You want to do it again?"

"I'm thinking five times a week should be enough for a start. We'll focus on your endurance first."

A nightmare.

This was a nightmare.

"I won't even bill you," Reborn continued, looking amused now. "Don't thank me. I'll do it out of the goodness of my heart."

Tsuna collapsed on his bed. The Sun Flames covering his body had never once disappeared. He didn't give one flying crap about it now.

"I'm not doing it. I'm _never_ doing that again. Now get out of my place!"

.

* * *

.

Alright.

Life officially sucked.

Tsuna blew his nose and tossed the crumpled tissue in the plastic trash can beside the bed.

His nose was runny and red, a headache was pounding at the back of his skull, and this morning he'd started coughing like a flooded engine that just wouldn't start. He'd put on three sweaters and had swaddled himself in large blankets but so far it hadn't been enough to stop the shivers that wracked his body like seismic waves.

Maybe it was time to admit that he was, in fact, not fine.

"I knew it. You're sick."

And now he was hearing voices, too.

Dazed, Tsuna looked up and realized that he wasn't alone. Someone was standing in front of him. It took longer than usual to recognize the dark suit and black fedora.

"Ah," he rasped, sounding so nasally stuffed it was like he'd inhaled a lungful of helium. "Reborn. When did you get here?"

The thought that his privacy had been invaded yet again fluttered distantly, stirring a numb sort of annoyance that got washed away under a layer of apathy. The world was _pain_ and _loud_ and _bright_ , and Tsuna just wanted to roll over and go back to sleep.

Alone.

In the dark.

Forever.

"I've been standing here for five minutes."

The hitman took in the small mountain of blankets wrapped around Tsuna. They were so thick and heavy that his body had become a vaguely humanoid form with hands and feet sticking out of the folds like stubby appendages.

Reborn's lips tightened. "You said you were fine," he said, sounding irritated.

Tsuna shook his head in automatic denial. The world immediately tilted on its axis and he had to stop.

"I am. Fine. After a good nap –" He sneezed, so hard he almost rolled off the bed. "I'll be alright after a good nap."

There was no need for doctors or anything else.

"A nap." Reborn stared at him as if he were a brand-new species of moron. "You're a revolting cesspool of germs and slimes, Baka-Tsuna. A little sleep isn't going to cut it."

Tsuna opened his mouth to insist that he was okay, really, and could Reborn please go away so that he may brood in peace?

He started coughing instead. The pain in his throat flared up, as if gasoline had been poured over red embers.

 _Ouch_.

Another sneeze, a little wet this time, and –

Reborn slapped a tissue over Tsuna's nose.

"If anything coming from your nose or mouth touches my skin again," Reborn said flatly, grinding the tissue into Tsuna's face, "I will be deeply unhappy."

Tsuna had just breathed snot all over a suit that cost more than his whole wardrobe.

Great.

Absolutely wonderful.

"You should leave." Tsuna buried his face in his hands. "Or you might get sick, too."

"Don't insult me." Reborn snoffed. "Your immune system is clearly deficient. Mine's better than that."

There was an adequately sarcastic reply buried deep in his brain, somewhere behind the giant throbbing pain pulsating in his eyes. It was just too bothersome to dig it up.

Tsuna burrowed deeper in his blankets.

Reborn watched him for a minute, face twisting into a glare that conveyed exactly how stupid he thought Tsuna was and how it would do the world at large a favor if he put a bullet through his heart.

Tsuna looked back at him. He shivered and sniffed miserably.

Reborn blinked. Something flickered in his eyes, there and gone in a split second. He frowned, hesitated, then said, "I can't believe I'm doing this."

Tsuna coughed. "Aren't you going?"

Reborn wiped a small plastic bag out of nowhere and tossed it at him. Tsuna squeaked, fumbling to catch it. He missed and its content tumbled out on his lap.

"What's that?"

Reborn snatched one of the boxes. "You have a brain, use it," he growled. "What's your weight?"

"My weight?"

"Don't be coy. We need to figure out how many tablets you can take."

Medications.

Ugh.

Tsuna hadn't stepped on a weighing scale in over a year. He took a wild stab in the dark. "Ah, huh, 110 pounds?"

Reborn threw him a faintly exasperated look, then walked toward the kitchenette area. He was soon banging open cupboards and drawers while barking for a spoon and a thermometer.

Tsuna stared at the agitated hitman, a little drowsy but still aware enough to notice that something was definitely different.

He'd never seen Reborn so – dare he say it? – so _ruffled_ before _._

"Reborn," he called slowly, dubiously. "Are you ... worried about me?"

The look he got in response was nothing short of lethal.

" _No_."

Tsuna reeled back as if he'd been burned.

"S-sorry," he croaked, lowering his head deeper in his blanket like a turtle retreating into its shell. "Never mind, I got it wrong."

Reborn glowered at him for another moment then went back to fiddling with a bottle of syrup.

Tsuna observed him from behind his bangs. His eyelids soon started to get heavier and heavier. The world went fuzzy. He drifted, never quite falling asleep but unable to remain completely awake either.

Reborn had been right. He was being stupid and should have gone to a doctor before things got so bad.

It was just –

Tsuna _hated_ it.

His body shutting down felt like the worst kind of betrayal, as if control had been wrenched out of his hands so that someone else could seize it and do whatever they wanted with him. The mere thought of it brought him right back to a place of white walls and white floors and white coats. The cell was cold and familiar around him. He stood in the middle of a circle of children. Half of them were burned, skin melted and bones charred black by Tsuna's Flames. They stared at him, silent and resentful and –

"Wake up."

Tsuna's eyes snapped open.

He was lying down on his side, buried under his mountains of blankets. Cold sweat drenched his back. His heartbeat hammered against his ribcage. He swept a wild look over the apartment. There were no children. Of course.

Reborn waited beside the bed.

"Sit," he said, and before Tsuna could get his bearings, he'd been strong-armed out of his nest and found himself kneeling on the edge of the mattress, pills and tablets being shoved down his throat.

Reborn literally pried Tsuna's mouth open with a spoon and dumped a dose of bitter syrup on his tongue. He made him use a spray for sore throats and watched coldly as Tsuna coughed and winced as it went down the wrong way. Ointment was applied to his red nostrils and boxes of high-quality tissues were put into easy reach.

An eternity later, Tsuna was finally allowed to crawl back into his blankets.

Reborn tossed a spoon and a mug into the kitchen sink with a grimace of distaste.

"Never again," he ground out, eyes glowing suspiciously bright. "This is humiliating."

"Hey," Tsuna mumbled. "It's not like I'm having fun either."

"And whose fault is that?" Reborn snapped.

He removed his tie and hat and hung them on the back of a chair. His jacket dropped to the floor a moment later. He put one knee on the bed.

"Move."

Tsuna gawked.

Reborn impatiently shoved Tsuna's legs away. He settled in a sitting position against the wall and reached out to drag Tsuna into his side. Tsuna's face smashed into a solid shoulder. He squawked, a protest on the tip of his tongue – but then warmth litterally exploded out of Reborn's body. It latched onto him and sank through the layers of blankets, settling under his skin like hot water running in his bloodstream.

Oh.

Tsuna squirmed.

That felt good.

"R-reborn?"

"One of the Sun Flame's attributes is regeneration." The hitman stole a pillow to cushion his head against the wall. Apparently, he was settling in for the night. "So shut up and go to sleep, Baka-Tsuna. You'll feel better tomorrow morning."

An ominous _or else_ was implicitly tacked on at the end of that sentence.

For a moment, Tsuna could only stare with wide eyes at the white button-up shirt that filled his vision. He strained a little, but Reborn's hold remained firm and Tsuna's strength fizzled out like spent batteries. A pleasant buzz started to drown out the universe. The throbbing in his head dulled to a numb headache. His throat stopped feeling like it was on fire.

Tsuna yawned.

As if sensing his weakening resistance, Reborn's Flames coiled tighter around him.

And that felt really, really good.

Tsuna hesitated. Then gave up.

Screw it, caution and paranoia were for people who could afford to string more than two coherent thoughts together. The Sun Flames dulled the pain and pushed the ice away. Right then, that was all Tsuna needed to know. He went limp and snuggled deeper into the heat like a cat seeking out a caress.

Reborn froze.

He went stiff, all motion stopping, as if he hadn't expected Tsuna to curl up against him.

Tsuna blinked, vaguely wondering if he should pull away after all.

A couple of seconds ticked by.

Reborn slowly relaxed.

Tsuna dozed off to the rhythm of a steady heartbeat resounding under his ear.

.

* * *

.

Character development, guys. Reborn's better buckle up because he's going to have _feelings_ about a certain bumbling baby Sky.

Also, guess who's the next canon character that's going to show up?


	13. Late

Tsuna limped out of the bathroom only to freeze dead in his tracks.

Someone had taken over his bed. The culprit was lying back against a plush mountain of pillows, eyes closed and feet casually crossed at the ankles. He looked like he'd been napping there for hours.

Tsuna threw a glance around.

Polished shoes had been neatly set by the front door. A fedora hat and black tie were hung on the back of a chair, and steam wafted from a brown paper cup set on the nightstand. The scent of black coffee, thick and easily identifiable, washed over the room.

Tsuna's lips parted. He let out a tiny choked sound.

" _You_."

Reborn wiggled a couple of lazy fingers in the air. "Me."

Tsuna hobbled toward the front door. He grabbed the handle. The door swung open.

"I locked it," Tsuna said to the empty stairs. He checked the latch. "I know I locked it before going to bed last night."

It was already the fifth time Reborn had sneaked unnoticed into his place. As if he'd grown bored of meeting up with Tsuna outside and relished the challenge of a good ol' breaking-and-entering stunt, the man was now barging in whenever he felt like startling Tsuna into panic attacks. It was getting out of hand. Fast.

Tsuna closed the door.

"How do you get in everyday?"

"Magic."

Tsuna kicked one of the black shoes away from the doormat.

Reborn cracked an eye open. "Very mature," he commented dryly.

"You can't keep doing this – it's illegal!"

"If you're not happy, try to stop me."

As if.

Tsuna might as well stand between a lion and a dead carcass, and tell it, _bad kitty_ , _no_.

"I should report you." He stepped away from the other shoe before the four-year-old in him could start stomping on it like a furious elephant. "Get you arrested and thrown in jail."

It wouldn't work, of course, but the fantasy of having protection against criminals one phone call away was still nice to entertain.

"The police?" Reborn nimbly shifted onto his side, supporting his head with a hand. He smirked. "Call them. We'll find a way to fit them in your training."

Tsuna glowered death at the hitman.

Training was not how he would have labelled the hellish running sessions Reborn had started to put him through as soon as he'd recovered from his cold three weeks ago. That word was too tame, too mundane. It didn't carry enough horror to fit the situation. Days after days of puking in the bushes and waking up with muscle cramps that could make Olympic athletes weep in agony had left Tsuna with strong opinions on the matter.

"You're a menace," he told Reborn bitterly.

Body wrecked with exhaustion, he stumbled toward the table on shaky legs. Everything ached and throbbed. He almost didn't make it to a chair before collapsing.

Reborn watched his progress, noting and cataloging every wince and curse. "Cramps?"

If lightning could come out of his eyes, Tsuna would have fried the psychopath right then and there.

" _Yes_."

The corners of Reborn's mouth twitched. "Eh."

Jerk.

Tsuna carefully bent in half and started to massage his calves. So much for stretching routines before exercising.

 _Ow_.

"Be positive," Reborn purred from the bed. "This pain is weakness leaving your body. You should be grateful for it."

Tsuna snorted. He wasn't feeling grateful, not even one bit –

Wait.

There was a small paper bag on the table. It hadn't been there before.

"What's this?"

"Breakfast."

Huh.

Tsuna opened the bag, revealing croissants and raisin buns. He poked at them. They were still warm.

What even.

Tsuna closed the bag.

"Are they poisoned?"

A pillow instantly slammed into his face.

"Don't be an ungrateful brat," Reborn growled.

Tsuna spluttered, nose stinging. "That hurt!"

"If I wanted you dead, I wouldn't need poison to get rid of you, Baka-Tsuna."

You wouldn't see me, was the implied threat. You would never realize how you'd died.

Tsuna had to agree. A soundless bullet into the brain was more in line with Reborn's style than some convoluted ways of slipping poisons in pastries.

"Eat," Reborn said. "You skip breakfast far too often."

Only a dedicated stalker would know that.

Feeling somewhat resigned, Tsuna put the pillow on the chair next to him and looked back at the paper bag. Those croissants smelled good. His stomach let out a rumble. He gave in, grabbed one, and bit into it.

Mmh, yes. Definitely right out of the oven. The pastry was crisp on the outside and just the right sort of _pillowy_ on the inside. It tasted of high-quality butter coming from a good farm and Tsuna immediately knew whose croissant he was eating. He swallowed, vaguely praying that Cinzia would never discover that Reborn was looting her goods.

The chair on the other side of the table made a scraping noise as it was dragged over the floor.

Reborn sat down. He was staring at the croissant in Tsuna's hands with a complex expression, his attention focused on each bite Tsuna was taking.

That was weird.

Well.

Weirder than usual.

Tsuna finished the croissant and licked his fingers self-consciously. "Do I have something on my face?" he muttered, patting his cheeks.

Reborn didn't answer.

He picked up a raisin bun and just looked at it for a moment, thoughts whirling behind black eyes. A ripple of determination ran across his features. He held out the pastry to Tsuna.

And then, casual as you please, he dropped a bomb by announcing, "I'm leaving."

Tsuna jerked upright.

"For a job," Reborn continued. He plucked a raisin and popped it in his mouth. "I'll be back in a week."

"You ... will?"

"Of course. I never leave a project unfinished, and you're very much that." Reborn shot a sly look at Tsuna. "Why? Were you worried I wouldn't come back?"

Tsuna abruptly felt very stupid for the jolt of panic that had shot through his system.

Reborn had a job to do. That meant someone was going to die, didn't it? Maybe several someone. And yet, even knowing all this, Tsuna's mind had entirely by-passed the potential deaths to get stuck on the possibility that Reborn was going to vanish without a trace.

He didn't like what that implied.

He didn't like it at all.

"Still hungry?" Reborn asked lightly, waving the bun in the air like a bait.

Tsuna snatched it with a squeak, ears burning.

He didn't _care_ , dammit.

Reborn put his elbows on the table and steepled his fingers under his chin as he watched Tsuna eat. He looked satisfied. And smug. Way too smug.

Something was definitely amiss with the whole food thing. Tsuna stopped mid-chew.

"Seriously. Are they poisoned?"

.

* * *

.

Reborn left the following day, and with him went away all the crazy in Tsuna's life. No more hitmen. No more stalkers. No more mafia shenanigans. It was nice – until it wasn't anymore.

 _Why? Where you worried I wouldn't come back?_

Tsuna mentally swatted the annoying voice out of his thoughts and focused on not tripping. He stumbled out of the tree line like a zombie. Behind him, a well-travelled path stretched out into the woods for several miles. It was lit by lampposts placed at regular intervals, but no one was jogging under their artificial lights. The sky was just starting to turn pink. Dawn hadn't even been a spark on the horizon when Tsuna had set off earlier that morning. Normal, sane people had still been in bed.

He came to a stop onto the withered grass of the soccer practice field. His legs gave out. He fell, a puppet whose strings had been cut, and lay panting and gasping on the ground.

Oh my God, he thought dizzily as the world spun and spun around him. What am I doing?

Reborn had been gone for five days. There was no logical explanation as to why Tsuna was still stupidly, faithfully pushing himself through the fiend's nightmarish work-out program. It wasn't like anyone was going to fire bullets at him for being lazy. He wasn't being actively threatened. It was safe to _rest_.

Besides, this was his day off. Neither Cinzia or Ottone expected him at the bakery. He could have slept in. He could have had a long, warm shower. Hell, he could even have decided to spend the day inside, binge-watching stupid shows and gorging himself on junk food.

So _why?_

Tsuna stared at the sky, trying to get his breathing back under control.

 _Get up, idiot,_ Reborn's voice echoed again in his ears. _Start stretching before you cool down_.

Tsuna rolled over with a groan and pushed up to his feet.

Clearly, he'd gone insane.

.

* * *

.

"You need to stop making that constipated face. It's weirding people out."

As if to prove Cinzia's point, the kind old man who'd just bought a baguette threw one last puzzled glance at Tsuna before stepping out of Little Trinci. The doorbell jingled once and then they were alone in the front shop.

"Sorry," Tsuna said sheepishly.

Cinzia was tinkering with the register machine, rearranging the bills of five and ten euros in neat little rows. She frowned at him.

"What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing's wrong."

"Huh-huh."

"Really." Tsuna started to tidy up the desserts behind the showcase, shuffling cupcakes and brownies around. "Everything's fine."

"Liar. Now try again with the truth."

Tsuna pinched his lips together. He picked up a rag and wiped the empty shelves. Nervous energy buzzed under his skin. He had to move, to keep busy and avoid thinking about useless things.

"Tsuna?"

"Reborn's not back yet," Tsuna blurted. The words came rushing out of his mouth and he immediately wanted to swallow them back.

But there it was.

He'd said it.

All the worry he'd tried to keep buried inside bubbled to the surface like acid. A week, Reborn had said, and he'd never been the type to tolerate lateness in others or himself – so why was there still no sign of him almost ten days after he'd left?

Cinzia closed the register machine. "Oh, I know," she crowed. "No one's been pilfering my pastries lately."

Tsuna winced. "You noticed?"

She pinned him with a hard look. "I know everything that goes on in this place."

Maybe it wasn't such a bad thing that Reborn hadn't come back, after all.

Tsuna finished cleaning. The knot of tension in his belly refused to go away. He should find something else to do. Maybe Ottone needed help in the kitchen or –

"Look at me."

Slender fingers abruptly grabbed his chin and yanked down.

Tsuna squawked.

"Don't move," Cinzia ordered, holding his face as she stared at him.

"What?" He flailed a little. " _What_?"

Blue eyes became twin slits of suspicion.

"You," she started slowly. "What are you worrying about?"

"That's not – I'm not –"

"Shut up, you're not fooling anyone. I know this face. It's the same one you made last month when you dropped your phone in the bowl of pasta."

Did she _really_ have to go there? They'd agreed to never talk about the bowl of pasta again!

Cinzia peered at him a moment longer. She let go with a muttered, "Crap."

"What now?"

"You're worried about _him._ "

Tsuna turned around to hide a grimace. Cinzia had always been uncannily good at hitting the bullseye. He sort of wanted to crawl into a hole and disappear.

"I'm not," he mumbled.

A pointy finger poked between his shoulder blades. "You are."

The images he had been trying to ignore all along of Reborn lying somewhere in a ditch, bleeding out or unconscious, swirled in his head. The finger at his back stabbed him harder, as if to say, _cut the bullshit_.

Tsuna wriggled away.

"I'm not," he said again, louder. "It's just–"

One week.

That had been three days ago.

Tonight would make it four.

"It's just he said he'd be back on Wednesday, so maybe there was a problem, maybe something went wrong. Because I know he would rather kill someone than be late and he didn't call or anything and what if something happened to him and –"

"Tsuna," Cinzia interrupted. "You're rambling."

Blood rushing into Tsuna's cheeks.

 _God_.

He was such a mess.

The look on Cinzia's face was nothing short of flabbergasted. "You do realize the chances of him happening to someone _else_ are far more likely, don't you?"

"You can't be sure," Tsuna said, voice tiny and weak.

"No, I know he's fine. Bastard's too stubborn to die." She paused, wrinkling her nose. "Holy shit."

Tsuna opened his mouth.

She thrust a hand in front of him.

"Wait. Give me a minute. I need to think. Because apparently we're worrying about the asshole now. What the hell."

While she was busy scowling at the ceiling, Tsuna took a few steps back until he hit the wall. He slid down into a crouch.

A ball of horrified realization was stuck in his throat. He could scream denials at Cinzia all day long, but deep inside he'd already understood. Somehow, someway, without him noticing, he'd started to care. Reborn had become more than a threat, more than an annoying stalker – he'd become important.

And it was fun.

Just a little. Every now and then.

Like splashes of color splattered over a white canvas.

Tsuna blanched.

When had this happened?

.

* * *

.

Late afternoon turned into evening and with it came a big storm.

It rolled over the downtown area rapidly, all flashing lightning and rumbling thunder. Strong gusts of wind howled between high buildings, plastering clothes to people's bodies and drilling straight into their bones.

Tsuna's umbrella was nearly wrenched out of his hands as he ran down the street. People scurried around him, trying and failing to find a shelter where to hide from the storm. Admittedly, going out to buy Chinese take-away hadn't been the brightest idea. Tsuna hunched over, trying to make himself into a smaller target. Rain started to fall harder. It trickled down his face and dripped past his scarf into the fabric of his pullovers. He was going to freeze to death for some fried rice and a few pieces of lemon beef.

Classic.

Drenched and shivering, Tsuna barely made it back home. His fingers were numb and clumsy from the cold. He almost dropped his keys several times only to discover upon shoving them in the keyhole that the door was already unlocked.

Someone had let themselves in while he'd been gone.

Tsuna slowly pushed the door open. "Reborn?"

Complete silence.

Everything was dark inside. The only source of light came from the lampposts out in the street, a faint glow made blurry by the awful weather. No sound. No movement. The semi-darkness felt thick and oppressive.

The hair on the back of Tsuna's neck rose.

"Hello?"

A shadow shifted near the window.

"Over here, Baka-Tsuna," Reborn's voice called back,

Relief rammed into Tsuna.

"Welcome back," he said, then paused. The greeting felt too familiar and intimate to be comfortable. Oh, well. Tsuna toed off his shoes. He doubted Reborn would notice anyway. He flipped a switch and light buzzed to life on the ceiling.

Reborn was sitting on the window sill, one elbow resting on a bent knee while his other foot, bare and pale, was on the floor. Clothes lay disregarded all over the place. The black jacket of an expensive suit was half-hanging from the TV cabinet and a tie had been unceremoniously dumped on the rug under the coffee table. A black shoe was partly hidden by the bed while the other one had slid to a stop next to the nightstand. It looked like Reborn had undressed as he moved toward the back of the apartment, dropping everything on his way without sparing a second thought for the mess he left behind.

Tsuna put the bag of Chinese food on the table.

"Are you okay?"

Reborn didn't look away from the window. "I'm fine."

But now that Tsuna was really focusing on him, he could see the way Reborn's black dress shirt was slightly bulging over his chest. A piece of white peeked from under the unbuttoned collar. Some red teased the eye with each move.

Every concern and worry Tsuna had felt over the past couple of days slammed into him like a sledgehammer. His mind went strangely blank.

Those were bandages – bandages stained with blood.

"You're hurt," he said, voice full of disbelief.

Reborn was invincible. Strong. Lethal. His very presence felt larger than life, a chaotic force of nature that swept everything in his wake. He wasn't supposed to _bleed_.

Tsuna sort of wanted to throw up.

Reborn glanced down at his shoulder and gave a little tug at the top of the bandages. "This is just a scratch." He shrugged. "Nothing important."

"It doesn't look like a scratch," Tsuna croaked.

"I said it's fine. Drop it."

Tsuna bit back a protest.

He stood there for a moment, a gawking idiot wavering between the need to tell Reborn to go lie down and the impulse to call an ambulance and have the man carted off to the nearest hospital. Neither scenario was likely to end well.

"Are you – are you in pain?"

Reborn's head slowly pivoted around.

A beat of silence.

Then,

" _What."_

"I asked –"

"No, I heard you," Reborn cut him off, sounding caught somewhere between incredulous and outraged. "I'm just deciding how hard I need to hit your head to get you to stop being ridiculous."

Alright, that question may have been a bit of a strategical mistake.

Tsuna moved a little to the left, putting the table and chairs between the two of them.

Still – ridiculous?

The number of bandages wrapped around Reborn's torso hinted at a serious wound. Tsuna knew first-hand how bad it could hurt to just breathe when your upper body had been hurt. Torn flesh tended to burn as if a fire had been lit inside, and stitches itched and stung like mad even hours after they'd been made. Tsuna clearly remembered each sensation. Silver scars ran all over his body, crawling days and night with unwanted memories.

No.

There was nothing _ridiculous_ about pain.

With one last glare, Reborn brought his attention back to the street outside. He sat in silence, stiff and rigid, and offered no further explanation.

Tsuna shrugged off his coat. He took a tiny step around the table. When no bullets came whistling at him, he heaved a sigh and went to sit on the bed.

He waited.

Rain hit the window pane. Heavy drops ran down the glass. Lightning flashed. A minute passed. Then two and three.

"Do you know why I work alone, Baka-Tsuna?" Reborn suddenly asked.

Tsuna startled. "I, hm, no?"

"Because people are a pain in the ass. And because I've got no patience for stuttering imbeciles unable to get their jobs done properly."

Epics about the incompetence of men were crammed into those two sentences.

Tsuna didn't move an inch.

Reborn tapped a finger against the window. "By now, my reputation is well established, but that also means some people regularly try to trap me into ... permanent types of contracts. It's as if they believe they're the first moron to have the bright idea to get themselves a _dog_." He smiled at the storm, jagged and wide. "One bullet is usually enough to set them straight."

Tsuna looked down at his hands. It was obvious that something had gone wrong. Reborn was just dancing around the main issue.

"What happened?"

"I made an exception." The smile was wiped clean of Reborn's face. "I agreed to follow someone else's orders. As expected, they messed up."

Invisible Flames swelled in the room. They surged forward, a slow but fiery wave growing like the tide until the whole room was saturated with heat.

It felt like a punch in the guts.

Tsuna let out a wheezing breath.

He gripped the edge of the mattress, bracing himself against the onslaught, sensing the way Sun Flames scoured every surface in the living room, how they stretched and prowled and snapped at empty air.

"I am," Reborn gritted out, " _displeased_."

Such a gift for understatement. Displeased wasn't the word Tsuna would have used to describe the note of sheer murder vibrating in Reborn's voice. Someone was going to die. Probably him. Tsuna waited for the usual debilitating panic to kick him in the teeth. It didn't come.

"Why did you make an exception?"

Black eyes drilled into Tsuna. "Personal. Reasons."

Two words, clipped out and laced around a warning. Tsuna heard it loud and clear. Fine, no more prying then. The goosebumps peppering his skin from the storm earlier gradually faded. For a moment, Tsuna just sat there, soaking in the furious heat, a moron literally thrust into the cooking pot and still not trying to run away. It was as if his body recognized Reborn's Flames now. Adrenaline refused to kick in. His fight or flight instinct was sound asleep.

Tsuna frowned.

A lot of unpleasant realizations were hitting him out of nowhere lately. It wasn't exactly a series of pleasant experiences.

Reborn unlocked his jaw. "Aren't you going to ask for details?"

No, thank you.

Digging deeper than this didn't seem like a viable idea.

"You should," Reborn pushed. "After all, you are directly concerned."

Tsuna stared.

You.

Are directly.

 _Concerned_.

Did that mean what he thought it did?

A baker's adopted son was no one, and nobody cared about a kid barely out of high school. Tsuna had no money. He wasn't famous or important. He had no value whatsoever.

Except for one thing.

... oh.

His mind immediately shied away from the remaining possibility.

No.

( _Yes_.)

Reborn hadn't moved from his place near the window. He watched Tsuna, eyes glinting with gold. There was something expectant hanging in the air between them. An answer to give. A plunge to take.

Tsuna looked away with a cringe. Staring contests had never been his forte, especially not with upset Suns.

Reborn abruptly stood up. "This was a mistake."

What the –

Tsuna's head snapped up so fast he almost got whiplash. Reborn brushed past him as he headed for the front door.

Tsuna scrambled forward to stand between him and the exit. "Wait!"

Reborn pulled up short of bulldozing him over. He looked deeply irritated. "Get out of the way, Baka-Tsuna. I'll come back later."

"No."

Reborn's fingers twitched toward the gun strapped at his side.

Tsuna pretended he didn't see anything. Unrest fluttered in his system, making him jittery with nerves. He couldn't explain why, not even to himself, but it felt like he would fail some sort of test if he allowed Reborn to leave.

"You – you can sleep on my bed tonight," Tsuna stammered. "I'll sleep on the floor. And there are more pillows in the closet, so we can make sure you're comfortable and. Huh. I think I still have some painkillers from that time I fell down the stairs? We can –"

Fingers wrapped lightly around his throat.

Reborn leaned in, so close his breath ghosted over Tsuna's skin. "I said you're in the way," he repeated icily. " _Move_."

Tsuna felt his heart skip a beat.

He hated to have anything around his neck. It reminded him too much of the collar he'd carried for years. Of white rooms and white walls and white coats.

Reborn dared – he _dared_ –

Red-hot anger rushed through Tsuna.

He slapped Reborn's hand away. "Stop being a jerk."

The heat blazing in the air faltered.

Reborn looked at his hand as if he'd never seen it before.

"I'm trying to _help_ ," Tsuna continued, using all his willpower not to yell. That was a lot of willpower. "Can't you try to cooperate? Just a little?"

Annoyance had reared its ugly head, and with it came bitter disappointment. This was it, then? Tsuna had waited and fretted for days and this was what he got in return – an idiot hitman behaving like a prickly porcupine?

Taking care of someone wasn't supposed to be so hard. Tsuna didn't remember being this difficult when he'd been sick. He had taken his damn medications and then he'd gone to sleep without protesting. He most certainly hadn't assaulted anyone in the process.

Tsuna rubbed his throat.

Reborn's eyes swung back his way. They narrowed. The Sun Flames around them seemed to recover from their surprise. Tsuna felt a spark of heat near his face, like fangs snapping inches away. He didn't react.

"You're insufferable," Reborn snapped. "Aren't you afraid?"

He was.

Reborn scared the living daylight out of him, and he knew all too well how much of a sadistic madman he could be– but right then and there, Tsuna was more _worried_ than afraid. It pissed him off. Back in the devasted landscape of frost and ice, his little sparks of orange Flames hummed their displeasure. They pulsed with frustration, a quiet litany of _stupid_ , and _vulnerable_ , and _make-him-rest_.

"You won't hurt me."

"Don't be so sure about that. I'm very tempted right now."

"No," Tsuna retorted forcefully. "I _know_ you won't."

Reborn blinked.

He shifted back a little, tilting his head to the side. A calculating expression flitted across his face.

It would have been very easy for him to leave. A single blow, a single flare of Sun Flames, and Tsuna wouldn't have been a bother ever again. Yet he did nothing. Just watched and verbally pushed back without ever escalating things into violence.

Tsuna had been right.

This was some sort of test. He just didn't know what it was about.

The Sun Flames circling them started to eb away.

"Idiot." Reborn let out a long breath. The rigid line of his shoulders loosened. "Never think that someone will hesitate to stab you in the back. Even me."

The casual insult was oddly reassuring.

Tsuna relaxed. "Stay."

"Fine. Don't regret it later."

"I won't."

No place for hesitation or second thoughts. Tiny sparks of Sky Flames sang at the back of his mind. They wouldn't allow him to back down.

"Good."

Reborn turned on his heels and made a bee-line for the bed. He walked with his usual confidence, every step silent and flowing. Tsuna wondered how much it cost him to hide all sign of pain and exhaustion. Probably a lot, he decided. Reborn nabbed a pillow and settled against the wall, acting not at all like he had been aggressively determined to leave moments earlier.

A flash of sanity suddenly hit Tsuna out of nowhere.

He had won.

In an argument with Reborn.

His determination crumbled like a castle of sand.

How close, exactly, had he come to getting a bullet hole in his forehead?

What the hell.

 _What the hell_.

"I, huh. I'll g-get you some water."

Tsuna hurried toward the kitchen sink, then remembered that Reborn only drank mineral water and veered sharply toward the fridge where the hitman stored several bottles.

Reborn accepted the offered glass without a word of thanks. Dark shadows danced on his face as he drained the cool water. Lines that usually didn't exist bracketed his mouth and eyes. Fireflies of orange fire let out another hum of disapproval at the sight.

Tsuna fidgeted.

Long ago, he had asked Ottone and Cinzia a lot of questions about what it meant to be a Sky. He hadn't been one anymore, and there was virtually no chance of him ever needing the knowledge, but he'd still been curious. A Sky was supposed to be _harmony_ , Ottone had explained. A shelter. Balance and comfort and relief embodied in a single Flame. As far as Tsuna was concerned, that was a load of poetic nonsense, because he'd certainly never been any of those things.

But wasn't it exactly what Reborn needed right now?

 _("After all, you are directly concerned.")_

Tsuna had to fix this. He had to try.

He put the glass on the nightstand and went down on his knees.

Reborn didn't look impressed. "If you try to treat me like an invalid, I'll shoot you in both knees."

He wasn't going to make any of this easy, was he?

Tsuna flushed crimson.

No, wait.

He couldn't let himself be rattled. Falling into Reborn's pace was bound to drive him up the wall, and he couldn't let that happen if he was going to do this.

Tsuna took a deep, calming breath, then focused on channeling his fire.

"Here," he said, not managing more than a whisper. "This should help."

Hopefully.

There was still a good chance for the whole thing to go pear-shaped and blow up in his face. Quickly, before he could use his brain and actually _think_ , Tsuna put a hand on Reborn's chest and shoved a spark of Sky Flame at the man.

Reborn's whole body lurched forward, like a lunge aborted mid-move. He let out a small hiss.

Tsuna froze.

They stared at each other. Rain battered the window behind them. Lightning flashed.

"Again," Reborn rasped.

Tsuna sent another pulse of weak fire into his palm. It wasn't difficult. The sparks leaped forward eagerly, seeming to move before a command had even been issued.

Reborn pushed against Tsuna's hand in a wordless demand.

 _More_.

There weren't many flickers of Sky Flames left above the ice. Tsuna gathered and offered them all to Reborn anyway. They disappeared, and frost immediately crystalized in his veins.

The blood drained from his face.

Tsuna let out a shuddering breath and it came out in a puff of white steam. This was the first time he'd burned out everything that was left free of his Flames. Strange how much he'd come to rely on the tiny sparks to endure the cold. Without them, he was defenseless. Timoteo's ice sank its claws deeper into him.

Reborn dropped his forehead against Tsuna's.

Sunlight bloomed in the emptiness inside.

"More?" Reborn asked.

"Yes." Tsuna gave a frantic nod. " _Yes_."

The Sun Flames in Reborn's eyes flared. He bared his teeth in a fierce smile. "Tell me when to stop."

Tsuna didn't want him to stop.

The sensation of so much heat filling him up was intoxicating. It felt like a piece of a missing puzzle suddenly clicking into place, just there under his heart, not quite right, not really, but close enough that he never wanted to let it go again.

The cracks in the ice widened.

They crumbled at the edges and down below – all the way deep below in the abyss – something immensely large started to struggle. It strained, reaching for the sunlight glowing above the ice. A deep yearning rose from the fissures, starving and craving and –

Tsuna pulled away.

His chest was about to split open. Sparks of Sky Flames violently erupted from the cracks in the ice. More and more kept coming.

It hurt.

It hurt so much he wanted to bury a hand into his heart and shove the bits of orange fire back down. Liquid heat coursed in his bloodstream, the searing glare of a midday sun clashing with winter-cold. Everything spun. The floor under his feet was rolling, rising and falling like a rocking wave trying to throw him off.

Someone suddenly yanked him up.

Tsuna blinked.

When had he fallen?

"Calm down," Reborn's voice said from the other end of a long tunnel. "Take a deep breath."

Impossible.

His lungs refused to work. The ice groaned and shifted once again. More pieces fell away. Tsuna bent in half and wrapped his arms around himself to hold all the broken parts together.

That… hadn't been very smart, had it?

It was too much, too fast.

Strong hands grabbed his face and forced him to look up. Reborn's face filled his vision.

"Are you back with me?"

"No," he gasped. He really, _really_ wasn't.

Reborn laughed.

He hauled Tsuna up on the mattress and lay down beside him. Tsuna stared at the ceiling as Reborn settled down. An arm was thrown over his mid-section, heavy and possessive and radiating heat.

It took a long time for the universe to stop spinning.

By the time it did, Reborn was sound asleep and Tsuna didn't want to move.

So he didn't.

.

* * *

.

 _ **Outsider POV.**_

 _ **Vongola headquarters, two days later.**_

The man seemed to be in his mid-twenties. He had dark blond hair and clear eyes set in an ordinary face. No one walking past him in the street would have given him a second glance. They certainly wouldn't have pegged him as a criminal.

Lukas glared at the picture displayed on the computer screen. This was the asshole who'd delivered a kick straight to the Vongola's balls. As the Storm Guardian's right hand, it was Lukas's job to find him.

"Who is he?"

"Jenoah Romano," Williams answered. "And he doesn't exist."

Middle aged with a head full of greying black, Williams was a Cloud working under Nono's Cloud Guardian. He'd taken the past couple of minutes especially hard, as if the kidnapping had been a personal attack on his skills as a computer wizard. The fact that Visconti had lit a literal fire under his men when he'd been informed of the disastrous breach of security hadn't helped either.

"What?"

Williams nodded. "The guy's as fake as me promising to never touch booze again after a splurge. Jenoah Romano was never born. He is a ghost."

Lukas felt a vein throbbing at his temple. "Then who the fuck," he ground out, "is the bastard that nabbed the heir of the Chinese Triads right under our fucking nose?"

Williams's fingers flew over the keyboard. "No clue. I'm still digging."

"Find him."

"I'm not a bloody _magician_. This shit ain't like snapping a finger and getting whatever you want. I need time."

"We don't have time."

Not with Aaron Lee's kid being somewhere out there, hurt and held captive. Or worse.

 _Please, let it not be worse._

Tension between the Famiglia and the Triads had skyrocketed in the last hour alone. What should have been a visit to renew political agreements had turned into a monstrous clusterfuck. Lukas didn't even want to imagine what would happen if they didn't manage to find the brat before dinner.

(War.)

Lukas sat down in a chair beside Williams. He checked his phone, hoping against hope for good news. He had received three messages. None of them informed him that the missing boy had been found. Lukas rubbed a hand down his face. He really needed a smoke.

The sound of fingers hitting the keyboard stopped.

Williams swivelled around to face him.

"There's more," he said.

Of fucking course, there was.

"Hit me with it."

Williams jerked his chin at the screen. "Jenoah whoever the fuck was already on our radar. I found that fake-ass's name so fast because we had been keeping an eye out for him. Nothing high priority, but still useful."

Interesting.

"And?"

"Remember the shit that went down with the Estraneo Famiglia some years back?"

Lukas did. The Vongola rarely mobilized all its ressources to annihilate another organization but the Estraneo had been as good as wiped out.

"I remember."

"Jenoah used to work for the Estraneo. His file says he was nothing more than a grunt but the connection's still there."

Lukas swore under his breath.

It was like peeling the layers of a fucked-up onion. Just when you thought things couldn't get any worse, you uncovered another goddamn problem.

Everyone knew why Nono had decided to move against the Estraneo. The bastards had been experimenting on children. They'd grabbed the kids from their families, regardless of gender or age, and they'd cut them open to study their Dying Will Flames. Countless Famiglias had been touched. The majority had ended up mourning a son or a daughter.

But that wasn't all.

Lukas had heard whispers – whispers about how it wasn't just any kid that had been taken from the Vongola. Iemitsu Sawada had spearheaded the attack against the Estraneo and some people had talked. Lukas didn't particularly like the man but he could empathize. Losing a child was always hard, but losing him in those circumstances? Hell wouldn't begin to describe it.

"Show me the video again," Lukas demanded. Might as well burn onto his retina the image of the sick jackass.

Williams hit a couple of keys.

The screen flickered and the scene of a boy sitting under the shade of a tall tree started playing. The kid was Lee's son. Ten years old with a pretty face, he was slowly, working through some sort of routine, a series of martial arts movements executed in slow-motion with perfect ease. A team of four bodyguards was stationed around him, each one facing a different direction. For a couple of seconds, nothing happened.

And then the image went black.

When it came back a split second later, the four bodyguards were down while the boy lay slumped on the floor. A tall man who had appeared out of nowhere bent down and picked him up in a firefighter hold. One of the bodyguards aimed a trembling hand at the pair. Jenoah stomped on the limb and the weak sparks of Rain Flames the bodyguard had summoned were snuffed out. A kick promptly took care of the nuisance.

Lukas's hands clenched into tight fists.

On the screen, Jenoah paused and turned around to look straight at the camera. He smiled.

"It's like he wanted us to see him," Lukas said. "The asshole's playing with us."

Williams grunted in agreement. "Here." He held out a file that held all the information they had on the kidnapping so far. "You should get going. Don't keep Coyote waiting. I heard he's on a warpath."

Weren't they all?

Lukas took the file. Around them, the control room was like a hive that had been kicked into overdrive. People worked hard and fast, grimly focused on doing their part to prevent an international conflict.

Lukas turned toward the door. "Call me as soon as you've got anything new."

"Will do."

Lukas walked away. He didn't know what sort of expression he was making, but people scrambled out of his way as soon as they caught a glimpse of his face. That was fine. He didn't feel like putting on a civil mask right now. Electricity buzzed between his fingers, green lightning itching to find and destroy a target.

Lukas pushed the door open.

A tall and slender man was waiting for him on the other side. His hands were held in front of him, folded inside the long sleeves of a red, tradional Chinese tunic. The contrast of the bright fabric with his dark eyes and black hair was arresting.

"Did I hear something about your team finding a suspect?" The man smiled, soft and serene and holy fuck, Lukas was going to die.

This was a restricted area. No outsider was supposed to put a single toe in that hallway. Whatever. Lukas wasn't going to be the poor sucker to point that out.

"I'm going to meet with Nono's Storm Guardian," he said roughly. "Follow me. I'll explain on the way."

He took the lead and headed for the stairs.

Fon Eye-Of-The-Storm followed.

.

* * *

.

More character development. Reborn and Tsuna are fumbling in the dark right now. They're very stupid and stubborn and adorable. It's fun to write. And don't worry, you'll get to find out what happened to Reborn later. In the meantimes, any theory?

Also, sorry for the long wait. Soon, I'll have more free time and the next update shouldn't take so long (fingers crossed).

Until next time,

Rei.


	14. Statement

Tsuna's eyes fluttered open.

Light assaulted him. It was harsh, bright, and came pouring in through the cracks in the shutters. Toes curling, he burrowed deeper in his cocoon of thick blankets. The world was warm and fuzzy. He didn't want to wake up.

Sounds of traffic drifted in. Distant. Muffled. Somewhere down the street, a dog barked. Its owner snapped a sharp order. The door of a car slammed shut. Birds chirped in the trees across the street.

Tsuna nuzzled his pillow. What time was it anyway? It couldn't have been late. No sign of activity came from the apartment upstairs. His neighbors were still asleep, which meant he didn't have to get ready for work yet.

Determined to doze for as long as possible, Tsuna groggily rolled over – or rather, he tried to. The sheet wrapped around his mid-section abruptly grew taut. It bunched, tightening so much that he couldn't quite –

Wait.

A piece of memory clicked into place.

Tsuna's mind sharpened unpleasantly.

A quick peek under the blankets confirmed his suspicions. The thing squeezing his middle was not, in fact, a sheet. It was an arm, one that was attached to the person currently hogging half of the mattress.

Right.

This was happening. Again.

Tsuna tried to worm away.

Reborn curled closer around him. One of his hands moved, drifting over Tsuna's chest until it stopped a little off center, right there over his heartbeats. The sparks which had recently broken free from the ice flowed in that direction, as if pulled in by a magnetic force. Reborn sent out a pulse of Sun Flames in response, sleepy and sluggish and _don't-move_. The flickers of orange wriggled in delight. Tsuna stopped struggling, overhelmed by a sense of surreality.

Reborn, hitman extraordinaire and sarcastic smartass all around, was a _snuggler_.

The irony of the moment was sharp enough to draw blood.

Tsuna looked at the wall. Hot puffs of air tickled his skin each time Reborn exhaled. Their legs were tangled together.

Oh, well.

Dragging the blanket back up under his chin, Tsuna wondered if he should try to fight the situation a little harder. A criminal had made a habit of slipping into his bed in the middle of the night. Surely that warranted more than an eyeroll and a vague sense of exasperation? Tsuna yawned and mentally dropped the matter. He would deal with Reborn later. The apartment was saturated with Sun Flames. He felt lazy and safe and deliciously warm. There were worse ways to wake up in the morning.

He relaxed. His breathing deepened, growing regular and heavy and –

Something slammed into him.

It _yanked_ and he fell.

There was a brief moment of disorientation, gravity flipping over without warning – and then Tsuna landed on his back. Hard. He blinked at the ceiling in disbelief.

"This is disappointing." A perfectly dressed Reborn entered his field of vision. "I thought I'd drilled better situational awareness into you."

Tsuna gawked.

"Did you just kick me out of bed?"

"You wouldn't wake up. I had to get creative."

Something was wrong with that man. Really, _really_ wrong.

Tsuna sputtered. "You could have called my name!"

"Don't be boring." Reborn nudged him with the tip of a shoe, like someone prodding roadkill to check how long it'd been dead.

Tsuna slapped the offending foot away with a squawk. "Stop it."

The corners of Reborn's mouth twitched. "Get off the floor. You're going for a run."

It felt like all the air was being sucked out of the universe.

A _run_?

Tsuna crawled away until his back hit the bed's frame.

Nope, nope, nope.

"I." He cleared his throat. "I'm not going."

Reborn stared.

"I mean." Tsuna squeaked. "Let's, hm, let's talk about this?"

Reborn watched him squirm for another second.

Then he nodded.

"Alright."

Alarm bells immediately started to ring at the back of Tsuna's mind. Before he could react, Reborn moved, a dark blur almost too fast for the eye to see. Something small and pointy hit Tsuna a split second later. It stung.

"Ow!"

"You have my attention." Reborn smiled like a shark, gun held steadily in front of him. "Let's talk."

For a brief, mind-numbing moment, Tsuna thought that he'd actually been shot. It took longer than usual to notice the spot of neon-orange that had rolled under the nightstand. He picked it up. It looked suspiciously like a rubber bullet. The projectile was squishy and soft, not hard and bloodstained.

"Did you just shoot me," he said, incredulous, "with a _toy_ _gun_?"

"We're supposed to be talking." Reborn took the safety off. "Go on. I'm listening."

Everything kind of went downhill after that.

Reborn's special brand of listening was painful and scary as hell. Tsuna had to beat a hasty and bitter retreat before he lost an eye to one of the rubber menaces. Wearing three sweaters and a scarf, he soon found himself in the public park behind his place. As usual, the trail running next to the soccer practice field was empty. A slight fog curled around the trees. Every blade of grass was heavy with dew. The storm from the previous week had long since blown over but temperatures had yet to climb back up.

The weather, however, was the least of Tsuna's concerns.

"Ten," he gasped, arms burning and shaking. "Eleven… twelve… thirteen…"

This was hell. This was literally hell, and no one was allowed to escape. How long until Tsuna could stop? Until he could rest? It had to be soon. It _had_.

A pebble whistled through the air and smacked against his forehead.

"Keep counting," Reborn's voice came from the side.

The hitman was sitting on a stone bench built at the edge of the park's fitness area. He was playing on his smartphone, the cheerful soundtrack of some stupid application echoing loudly. The bubbling melody seeming to mock Tsuna's suffering with joyful enthusiasm, and he'd been trying very hard not to fantasize about shoving the damn phone down Reborn's throat for the past ten minutes.

So far, he wasn't having much success.

Tsuna clenched his teeth.

It was just so _unfair_.

He was dripping sweat all over the place, his clothes were smudged with mud, and his shoes were full of rocks – but Reborn? The bastard didn't even have the decency of looking winded. There wasn't a single hair out of place on his head even though he'd followed Tsuna into the woods for the earlier bit of jogging. His suit was immaculate, no stain or wrinkle on the expensive material. He smelled _clean,_ dammit.

That shouldn't have been possible. Or human.

Demon, Tsuna thought darkly.

With impeccable timing, another pebble bit into his shoulder.

 _Mind-reading_ demon.

Tsuna started to count again.

"Sixteen… seventeen… eighteen…"

He kept going, pushing through the exhaustion to the beat of the game's music. The series of cutesy _ping-ping_ were eerily similar to the sounds of gunshots. It figured that Reborn would be killing things even while playing.

"…twenty… one… t-twenty… two –"

Tsuna face-planted into the sand.

That was it. He was done. No amount of rubber bullets in the world could make him move again. Panting, he lay there, a carp stuck on dry land, twitching and wincing with pain.

Reborn pocketed his phone and sauntered over. "Twenty-two push-ups. It's nothing to brag about but we're finally getting somewhere." He squatted down and looked down at Tsuna. An unholy glint appeared in his pitch-black eyes. "Still alive?"

"I hate you," Tsuna moaned. "I hate you so much and oh my God, I can't feel my _legs_."

Something small struck his left calf.

He yelped.

Reborn re-holstered the toy gun with a smirk. "Sounds like you feel them alright."

Tsuna dragged his head around and did his best to set Reborn on fire with his eyes. It had the effect of a dry pea bouncing off a wall. Ignoring his resentful glare, Reborn grabbed Tsuna by the back of his sweater and hauled him up. This must have been what a misbehaving puppy felt like while being carried around by the scruff of its neck. Tsuna bore the embarrassment with quiet dignity. He wasn't sure he could walk alone anyway.

Reborn dropped him on the bench.

Tsuna lunged for the bottle in his backpack. The water inside was cool and tasted wonderful. He gulped it down in huge mouthfuls.

"Slow down," Reborn warned. "You'll throw up again."

In which case Tsuna would aim for those nicely polished shoes.

They sat without speaking for a while. Tsuna gradually stopped sounding like he was one gasp away from keeling over. That in itself was surprising. He recovered much faster these days.

"Hey, Reborn," he said. "I can do twenty-two push-ups now. That's progress, right?"

"I suppose."

"Doesn't that mean we're done?"

Reborn turned to look at him. "Done?" he repeated.

Tsuna nodded quickly. This whole affair had always been about getting him back into shape, and now the objectives had been met. He'd looked it up online. A man his age could do twenty push-ups on average. Tsuna had achieved that a while back. His physical condition was way better than it had been before they'd started – better, in fact, than it had been in years.

Reborn arched an eyebrow.

"Baka-Tsuna," he said, sarcasm so thick it basically dripped from each syllable. "All I would have to do right now to knock you off your feet is to blow some air in your direction and watch you land on your head and get killed by the floor. We're so far from _done_ it shouldn't even exist in your vocabulary yet."

Tsuna sat rooted on the spot, speechless.

"Do you understand?" Reborn reached out and poked Tsuna's forehead with two sharp fingers. "This is me saying I'm not going anywhere."

Sun Flames trickled down from the point of impact, seeping into tired muscles and loosening the aching knots from an hour of torture.

"You just want to annoy me to death," Tsuna grumbled. "For _fun_."

Reborn snorted. "You make it too easy." He stood up. "Squats. Three sets of fifteen. Get started now."

Sun Flames and their regenerative properties or not, this was going to suck.

Tsuna braced himself.

Maybe Cinzia was onto something with the whole arsenic thing, he pondered, robotically getting into position. Arms held in front of him, toes facing forward and back held straight, he slowly lowered his body. The muscles in his thighs howled in agony. He started to count.

Yes, arsenic was starting to sound more and more appealing.

He should put some thought into it.

Just, you know, to keep his options open.

.

* * *

.

Cutlery hitting porcelain was the only sound resounding in the dining room as food disappeared from plates at a steady pace. The atmosphere was heavy, almost suffocating. They were balancing on the edge of a knife. Sooner or later, someone was going to slip and end up cut into bloody ribbons.

"So," Reborn suddenly said.

Tsuna flinched. The rice in his mouth went down the wrong way. He choked and dove for the pitcher.

This had been a horrible mistake.

Reborn smoothly ignored the coughing moron by his side. "Where is Cinzia?"

Ottone's answering glare was hot enough to liquefy iron. "Out."

"Out where?"

" _Outside_."

Reborn smiled. A muscled jerked in Ottone's jaw.

More silence.

Tsuna watched the scene with wide eyes as he guzzled water. Given Cinzia's propensity to come charging at Reborn with insults and the occasional knife, the hitman's interest in her location was more than expected. Ottone was just dead set on being as uncooperative as possible.

Tsuna put his glass down.

"So, hm, yeah," he babbled, mind flailing for a distraction. He turned toward Reborn. "Do you. Huh. Do you know how to get bloodstains off wallpapers?"

No, wait.

That wasn't what he'd meant to say.

Reborn paused mid-move.

"What," Ottone grunted, and it sounded like, _the fuck, you idiot brat_.

What, Tsuna's thoughts blankly echoed.

"Yes, Baka-Tsuna," Reborn said after a second, voice as dry as sandpaper. "As a matter of fact, I do know how to remove bloodstains from pretty much anything."

Of course, he did.

Tsuna blushed so hard it felt like third degree burns spreading all over his face.

"S-sorry, the conversation was – and you were – you know what? Never mind."

Where was a stray meteorite when you needed one? The end of civilisation didn't sound so bad all things considered.

Tsuna let out a deep breath.

He'd known the whole affair was going to be an unmitigated disaster as soon as Cinzia had cornered him after work two days earlier to issue a command of, "Bring the asshole over for dinner."

Tsuna still wasn't sure what had horrified him more – her bloodthirsty smile or the thundercloud gathering on Ottone's brows as he stood behind her.

"No," he'd said, appalled. "Absolutely not."

"Yes," she'd shot back. "Apparently, he's here to stay. That means we need to get to know him. Bring. Him. Home."

That had left him with no wiggle room. He'd gone for damage control instead. Since Ottone and Cinzia held the home field advantage, he'd decided to drop by unannounced. There was no sense in giving them an opportunity to booby-trap the encounter into a metaphorical slaughter. Naturally, though, Cinzia was not there the day he'd chosen. Which meant they would have to come back and do it again.

 _God_.

Ottone pushed his plate back. "You done yet? Then get out."

Tsuna sighed. If his adoptive father thought it was that easy to get rid of Reborn, then he was tragically mistaken.

Reborn toyed with a knife. "No dessert?"

Tsuna should just leave them to it. What was it called again? Right. Plausible deniability. Hiding in the bathroom was starting to sound more and more appealing.

An apple tore through the air like a missile.

Reborn snatched it without batting an eyelid. He bit into the fruit. Ottone launched another apple, clearly aiming for Reborn's forehead. The hitman dodged and it crashed into the wall behind them.

One way or another, they were going to end up in handcuffs before dinner was over. Cinzia would have to bail them out, and she would do it cheerfully just so she could murder them herself with a tea spoon.

Reborn finished his apple and dropped the core on his plate. "Coffee?" he asked, and there was no mistaking the gleeful note in his voice.

 _Screw it._

Tsuna stood up and headed for the bathroom.

.

* * *

.

"This is revolting."

"Disgusting."

"Get this away from me."

Tsuna scrunched up his nose. He was having a very strong case of deja-vu.

"I told you to make it exactly like you did last time's espresso," Reborn said, one very offended fingertip pushing the mug away.

"Is this about this morning?" Tsuna asked. "Because I didn't run fast enough?"

"No," Reborn answered bluntly. "We'll deal with that later. This is an entirely different matter." He tapped the side of the mug. "Start over."

Tsuna frowned.

Reborn was a bastard, there had never been any doubt about it, but this new level of pettiness was unreasonable even by his standards. Tsuna had never seen a person looking as disgruntled as Reborn had when he'd been told there wasn't a coffee pot in the kitchen.

Something strange was going on. The big picture wasn't remotely close to revealing itself.

Aware that black eyes were drilling into his back, Tsuna went back to the sink. Soon, he had water boiling over the hotplate and a clean mug on standby. He poured the hot water inside, tossed a bag of green tea along with it, and figured that was good enough.

"Here," he said, sliding the mug on the table.

Reborn didn't spare it a glance.

"Do it again."

Happy thoughts, Tsuna told himself firmly. Think happy thoughts.

He stomped back to the kitchen and proceeded to boil enough water to fill a bathtub.

"Wrong."

"Are you even trying?"

"Sewer waste would be better than this."

By his fifth failure, Tsuna was ready to throw someone out the window – Reborn, preferably, but he would have settled for a heavy and breakable object. He'd tried adding honey to the tea, and when that didn't work, he'd switched to milk and even sugar. Reborn sneered at him each time.

"But why?" Tsuna finally burst out. "You want tea. I'm making tea! So what is –"

"You're not listening," Reborn cut him off, voice sharp with impatience. "I told you to make it _exactly_ like last time."

It was bizarre sometimes, talking to Reborn, as if their views of the world were so radically different they couldn't quite align into something coherent. Like last time, he kept on saying, as if it were easy or even feasible. How exactly was Tsuna supposed to reproduce the cup of coffee he'd made using a highly efficient machine in a bakery that used roasted beans?

Especially since he was trying to make _tea_.

Tsuna held back a wince.

He didn't like thinking about that night, about how clumsy he'd been when he'd revealed his Flames and –

Wait.

His _Flames_.

"Are you finally starting to get it?" Reborn said quietly.

All of a sudden, the apartment felt too small. Its walls started to close in, looming and stifling. It was hard to breathe.

"Baka-Tsuna?"

Tsuna twitched.

Reborn was staring at him, eyes sharp and unblinking, focused with burning intensity on Tsuna's body language. He'd been doing that since they'd come back from Little Trinci, Tsuna realized. Something was pulled in close around the hitman – something that felt alert and watchful. Despite his irritation, there was a hint of wariness in Reborn, as if he needed to thread carefully.

It made no sense.

People called him the best hitman in the _world_ for a reason _._ The mere idea that Tsuna could make Reborn nervous was so far beyond ridiculous it landed right smack into crazy. There was nothing to fear from Tsuna. Not from a damaged, ugly, empty Sky that couldn't even keep warm in the middle of July.

 _Dammit_.

Tsuna snatched the mug from the table and retreated to the kitchen. He braced himself against the countertop. His stomach roiled.

Reborn had never mentioned Tsuna's Flames before. Not that time back in Little Trinci when Tsuna had slipped an orange spark in a cup of coffee or more recently when he'd come back wounded. Somewhere along the line, it had become an open secret. The agreement between them was implicit, never voiced out loud. They'd been tiptoeing around the truth for weeks and Tsuna had come to rely on that. Reborn breaking the status quo was a little like having the proverbial rug pulled from under his feet.

Alright.

Fine.

Tsuna's hands clenched into fists.

This – this was not unexpected. After all, he'd practically screamed his secret at Reborn, hadn't he? He had seen this conversation coming ages ago, had known there would be no avoiding it. But. What about Ottone? What about Cinzia? It hadn't quite sunk in until now that they could get hurt, _that they could –_

Sun Flames brushed against the back of Tsuna's neck.

The touch was flitting, feather like, similar to fingers tentatively skimming over his skin.

Tsuna froze.

The Flames waited a beat, then slowly started to move down his back. They were careful, cautious, and surprise broke through Tsuna's panic. He knew Reborn's Flames, had felt them bristling with fangs and killing intent, remembered the way they'd clashed with Timoteo's ice so hard it had almost shattered him. They were a mirror of Reborn himself. Unyielding and harsh and unapologizing _–_ and nothing like the soft touch currently whispering over Tsuna's clothes.

He sneaked a look over his shoulder.

Reborn had leaned back into his chair, face tilted toward the ceiling, eyes closed. It was as if he were trying to project a harmless, uninterested front. The posture worked as well as a dragon attempting to impersonate a kitten, but Tsuna still felt the knot of acrid fear in his belly loosen a bit.

The Sun Flames seemed to sense the change in him. They wound up into his hair, coaxing and soothing. Tsuna was pretty sure this was Reborn's way of saying _please_. I'm not dangerous, was the Flames' promise. I don't want to hurt you and look at how well I'm behaving – so please.

It probably said a lot about Tsuna that suddenly he wanted to laugh. The stiff line of his shoulders relaxed and all that was left behind was a startling amount of fondness.

How had he done it? Tsuna wondered, a little wistful.

Reborn had barged into his life with threats and violence, the very embodiment of everything Tsuna found repulsive about the mafia. And yet, one snarky comment at a time, inch by inch, slowly and unnoticed until it was far too late to stop it, he had managed to needle his way into becoming someone important. It had to make Tsuna crazy, and delusional, and more than a little desperate, but if Reborn suddenly decided to leave Tsuna would miss him. A lot. Far more than he was willing to admit.

He cared – he'd _known_ he cared – but this right there? It was something bigger. Meaningful in a way that hadn't existed even a few days before.

The Sun Flames in the air withdrew with one last caress. Tsuna looked down at the mug he'd prepared. Then he pictured the fluttering sparks of weak Sky Flames in his soul and shoved one into his hands.

The tea bubbled slightly, steam drifting from its surface.

Feeling somewhat numb, Tsuna stumbled back toward Reborn. He put the mug down without a word and collapsed on a chair.

Reborn opened an eye.

"Took you long enough."

Tsuna let his forehead hit the table. There was no strength left in his limbs. He peeked up.

Reborn was finally drinking the damn tea. Tsuna wondered if the hitman knew how much he looked like a cat that had just caught a juicy canary. He was holding the mug tightly, almost possessively, and if Tsuna squinted just right he could sort of make out a swirly, glowing pattern that shifted and twisted behind him. Sun Flames, ones that were just oozing satisfaction all over the place.

Reborn's hand disappeared in the pocket of his expensive jacket. It came out with a small paper bag that he dropped on the table.

Now, this was familiar grounds.

Tsuna opened the offering. There were five tiny macarons inside. Strawberry and chocolate. His favorites.

"Is this supposed to be a bribe?" he asked. "To forgive you for being a moody jerk?"

"Consider it a gift," Reborn said, voice so devoid of smugness if looped right back into arrogance.

Tsuna bit into a macaron and groused, "It feels like I'm selling my soul to the devil."

"Good. You're getting smarter."

Paranoid asshole.

Tsuna finished two more macarons and set the last ones aside for later. In front of him, Reborn drank more tea. Steam wafted from the top of his mug, most likely containing a hint of Sky Flames. Tsuna shivered, pinpricks of cold stabbing at his extremities. Feeling grumpy, he pulled his sweater closer around his shoulders, thinking he should have kept that spark for himself. Clearly, he needed it more than Reborn.

Tsuna blinked.

An idea slowly came into existence. If Reborn was allowed to be demanding, then so could he.

Right?

 _Right_.

"I'm cold," Tsuna blurted, the declaration both a challenge and a request.

It's your fault, he couldn't bring himself to say. Kind of. So do something about it.

Dark eyes snapped up. Reborn turned into a stone statue.

For a long while, neither of them said anything. Tsuna held his breath. More seconds ticked by, bleeding into a minute and then another one. Reborn still wasn't saying anything.

Oh, God.

Tsuna's cheeks heated up. He was stupid. So very, _very_ stupid. What had he expected? Behaving like a whiny, spoiled little brat wasn't going to –

Sun Flames latched onto him. Their warmth sank covered his clothes until he was wrapped in a balmy bubble that spread out like a blanket over the rest of the room. The temperatures in the apartment started to climb. It was like having a miniature, invisible sun hanging somewhere near the ceiling.

Tsuna gaped.

Reborn returned the look with a sardonic expression. "You're going to be a pushy Sky, aren't you?"

"I'm." Tsuna unglued his tongue from the roof of his mouth. "What."

He hadn't truly thought Reborn would bother to help.

But he had.

He _did_.

And that changed everything.

(" _This is me saying I'm not going anywhere_.")

.

* * *

.

Later that evening, Reborn's phone started ringing. He picked up the call, listened for a few seconds, then hung up.

He left immediately afterward.

.

* * *

.

Tsuna was lying on his back, staring at the ceiling with unfocused eyes. Shadows danced over the walls each time a car's headlights slid through the cracks in the shutters. The red digits glowing on his nightstand read eleven thirty. It had been one hour and twenty-four minutes since Reborn had walked out the front door.

That was fine. Everything was fine. Tsuna's pulse echoed in his ears, calm and steady, a quiet _thump-thump_ that marked the passage of time. He wasn't worried. Sleep was only a matter of time.

Eleven thirty-one.

Tsuna rolled over onto his side. Deep inside, sparks of orange fire buzzed frantically, urging him to _get up and go. Go, now_. He ignored them.

Eleven thirty-two.

For some reason, he couldn't quite fall asleep yet. He remembered waking up with a warm body plastered against his back in a room full of Sun Flames. He remembered bandages stained crimson under a black dress shirt. He remembered waiting for days and days without getting any news.

Eleven thirty-three.

The last train left the station a little after midnight. He could still make it, but only if he hurried.

It was insane. _Tsuna_ was insane.

Eleven thirty-four.

Another ripple of urgency coursed along his nerves. Something was wrong and it had to do with that phone call. Tsuna jumped out of bed, barely took the time to put on a pair of shoes, and ran out into the night.

.

* * *

.

 **Outsider POV**

"Where did you get him from anyway?"

"A very pretty backyard. Nice trees and flowers. I should have taken a picture."

Berenice rubbed a hand over her eyes. Obviously, she was reaching the end of her patience. "Orders are clear," she said. "We don't take children at random. Sooner or later another Famiglia will notice and that's _exactly_ the sort of shit storm we want to avoid."

Mi Li peeked at the unconscious child Jenoah was carrying. He was young, ten years old at most, and noticeably Asian.

Jenoah strode across the room and put the boy down on a sofa. He carefully slid a pillow under the small head of black hair.

Berenice scowled. "Are you listening? You can't keep him here."

Around them, a dozen of mafiosos were observing the scene with varying degrees of displeasure. This was their lounge room, the only place where they could come to relax between two shifts. The Famiglia's upper members usually didn't come to harass them about the goddamn job when they were there. No one wanted that peace to get ruined by some bastard with a few screws loose. A woman near the back of the room muttered under her breath. She cranked up the volume of the tv and more than one person turned their attention back on the ongoing soccer game.

Mi Li kept her eyes on Jenoah.

She had never liked him. There was just something too goddamn chirpy about the guy, as if he weren't like the rest of them, wading days and nights in the cesspool of horror the Famiglia produced every fucking second. That blasted sunshine attitude was just creepy.

Jenoah covered the boy with a blanket. Standing a step behind him, Berenice looked ready to strangle the man with her bare hands. Unaware of the danger, Jenoah leaned over the kid and gently patted a chubby cheek.

"Sleep well and quickly recover," he said cheerfully. "Papa Lee won't be happy if you get sick."

Papa Lee.

Something unpleasant poked at Mi Li's brain.

Lee. Aaron _fucking_ Lee. Who was supposed to be visiting the Vongola to talk about Nono's retirement.

Right there.

In Italy.

Mi Li blinked.

 _Hah._

No way _._

There must have been tons of families originating from Asia crawling all over the country. Statistically speaking, a lot of them had to carry the surname Lee. The fact that a Chinese delegation had recently come to Europe meant nothing.

Mi Li licked her lips.

It meant nothing, really, but –

"Hey, Jenaoah," she called, if only to prove that she was being dumb. "This looks like a little prince from some rich family. Did you grabb that Triads brat or something?"

Berenice throw Mi Li a flat look. "You're being weird again, Emily."

Laughter spread out over the room. Mi Li pulled her lips into a bland smile. She couldn't quite summon the bite to reel against the use of that hateful, hateful English name that wasn't hers.

Because Jenoah wasn't laughing.

Why the hell wasn't he laughing?

Berenice pointed at the man. "This is getting stupid and I'm too tired for your crap. Get your ass moving, we're going to –"

"How did you know?" Jenoah asked, watching Mi Li curiously.

No. _Fucking_. Way.

"I –" she started, only to be cut off as an explosion rocked the building.

Dust fell from the ceiling and the lights flickered.

Mi Li felt the blood draining from her face.

"Oh?" Jenoah looked up. "They're here already?"

"They?" Berenice repeated, eyes wide.

"The Vongola, of course."

Out in the hallway, an alarm had started to screech. People were yelling. Berenice let out a curse and rushed out of the room, followed by the rest of the group.

Mi Li didn't move. If that brat truly was Lee's kid, they were screwed. She had grown up in the Chinese underground. She knew how fearsome the Dragon Clan was. If you added the Vongola to the equation, then they were all already as good as dead.

"Why?" she ground out.

The man that looked back at her in that moment was a complete stranger. Gone was the idiot with the slightly unhinged smile. Jenoah stared at Mi Li and a hint of orange Flames started to glow in his eyes. For a split second, his appearance wavered, flickering like a screen of smoke about to be torn away. She blinked.

Jenoah put a hand on the boy's head.

"Because sometimes you need a big bait to catch a big fish."

.

* * *

.

And the mystery about Jenoah thickens.

Also:

Good news number 1 – with this we're wrapping up what I've been calling in my head the "Reborn Daily Life Arc." I'm very impatient to write the next part. It's time to meet other canon characters. And some familiar OC too.

Good news number 2 – what we've all been waiting for will happen very soon. Almost there, guys.


	15. Shatter I

The night was on fire.

An intense orange glow illuminated the horizon while the lights of squad cars flashed red and blue near the ground. A crowd of curious on-lookers pressed against a police blockade, phones held high overhead to record the big cloud of smoke rising above the top of the nearby forest. Dozens of conversations came from everywhere all at once, a background of concern and nosiness that provided absolutely no information.

Tsuna stared out at the scene from inside a taxi. Everything looked disorganized and confusing. Sane people probably went out of their way to avoid situations like this one. Which meant Tsuna should turn around and run away as fast as possible.

His Flames disagreed, giving him the mental equivalent of a sharp pinch.

It _hurt_.

Tsuna flinched so hard he smacked his face against the window.

The taxi driver frowned at him.

At any other time, such an expression would have sent Tsuna spiraling in a bout of stuttering awkwardness and crippling embarrassment. But not now, not when it was becoming alarmingly obvious that Reborn was involved up to his eyeballs in some sort of grand criminal stunt straight out of a Hollywood movie.

What did Reborn think he was doing anyway? Assassins were supposed to be discreet. Unseen and unheard. Subtle. And this? This was so far from subtle it had entirely bypassed _Kinda_ _Noticeable_ to crash and burn right smack in the middle of _Breaking News_.

Another pinch, followed by a twist.

 _There. Over there._

Tsuna's hands clenched into tight fists.

Alright. No more beating around the bush. Time to pull out the big guns. Tsuna was going to walk out there, he was going to get his hands on Reborn, and then he was going to drag the jerk back home and pretend none of this had happened. The meltdown clawing at the back of his mind would have to wait, preferably until he could lock himself in a bathroom for a week and bawl his eyes out so hard he passed out.

"What a shitstorm." The taxi driver leaned over his steering wheel and peered through the windshield. "You sure you want me to drop you off here?"

That would be an emphatic, _no_.

"Yes," Tsuna croaked. "Thank you."

"Your call." The man taped the taximeter above his dashboard. "That'll be seventy-two euros."

"R-right."

Tsuna patted his empty pockets. It was no use. Money refused to materialize out of the void. He was as penniless as he had been while hiding in the train toilets, terrified to be discovered and deported to the nearest police station.

What was the sentence for taking a taxi knowing you couldn't pay for the ride? Tsuna was pretty sure he could be charged with fraud and thievery. That meant jail. Possibly years in jail. Five or ten. Maybe more.

 _Eek_.

Tsuna swayed, panic choking him up. His vision started to blur. This was a disaster.

"You okay?"

"Huh-huh." Tsuna fumbled for the door handle. He found it. Pulled. "I, hm. I'll just –"

He flung himself out of the taxi.

"Hey!"

The driver's angry shout echoed behind him as he took off at a dead run.

"You stop right there, you little punk!"

Tsuna clambered away with a horrified squeak.

Holy crap.

 _Holy crap_.

That was it. He was some sort of lawbreaker now, a runaway delinquent that was going to be locked up behind bars because he was too stupid to think of bringing his _wallet_. The driver had seen his face. He could pick him out of a line up. Everything was over. Tsuna's _life_ was over. Reborn had finally managed to push him into criminality and he wasn't even there to sort out the mess!

It was outrageous.

Forget about dragging him back home, Tsuna was going to strangle the asshole to death and then use the reward put on his head to pay for bail.

Sweating bullets, Tsuna weaved in and out of the crowd. He drew a large circle until he was sure no one was following him. An anxious glance behind him revealed the driver was nowhere to be seen. So far, so good. Tsuna started to push his way to the front, using his shoulders and elbows to move forward and nudge people aside. It wasn't easy. The crowd of noisy bystanders was tightly packed. Startled exclamations erupted in his wake.

"Excuse me…Please, let me – here. Sorry. I – _ow_."

Somehow, he made it to the police blockade. He squeezed past two old ladies, and they reluctantly inched away, grumbling. It made just enough space to show the yellow barricade tape stretching across the road. The perimeter beyond was clearly off-limit.

Tsuna stopped there.

His mouth dropped open.

Firetrucks, police cars, and ambulances were all parked along the countryside road. Men and women in various uniforms bustled about, radios crackling and badges shining with every move. Orders were barked, people scrambled to follow them, and it looked like no one knew what was going on exactly.

Organized chaos didn't even begin to describe it.

Tsuna stared.

Another poke of orange Flames, urgent and stinging and _hurry up_.

"Cut it out," Tsuna hissed under his breath.

He swept a look around. No fedora hat anywhere in sight. No snarky hitman lurking in the shadows. No hint of that stupidly expensive suit.

Tuna lifted the tape.

Like a shark detecting blood in the water, a policewoman immediately zeroed in on him.

"Stop!" She walked over, brisk and annoyed. "Step back. Can't you see you're not supposed to go farther than that?"

"Sorry." Tsuna flushed. "I just – I think I need to go over there?"

The tape was yanked out of his hands. "What you need to do is to let us do our jobs."

"But –"

The woman glowered. "Did someone you know get lost around here?"

Lost per say was a bit of a stretch.

"No."

A finger stabbed straight at the forest, pointing toward the distant fire. "Then do you live this way?"

Tsuna shook his head miserably.

"Right." He policewoman glared at him, as if saying, _I can't believe how much of a little shit you're being right now_. "Again, I'm going to ask you to step back. It's dangerous."

Tsuna groaned.

Short of making a run for it he didn't see how he could avoid getting stuck there between the two old ladies for the rest of the night. He needed to do something.

As if reading his thoughts, the policewoman's eyes narrowed. She stayed planted right beside him, watching him like a hawk, apparently ready and willing to tackle him to the ground if he moved a single toe the wrong way.

This was just great.

Tsuna fidgeted, wringing his hands – and made eye-contact with a police officer that was talking to a group of paramedics not far from the blockade. It wouldn't have been anything noteworthy except that the man abruptly stiffened, freezing mid-word as if he'd slammed face first into a wall.

Tsuna watched, dumbfounded, as the cop recovered a split second later and came hurtling in their direction.

"Let him through," he said as soon as he was within earshot.

The policewoman turned to face the newcomer. "Do you know him?"

"Yeah. Sure." The man lifted the tape. "Let's go with that."

The woman muttered something unflattering and shifted a little to the side.

The cop motioned Tsuna forward. "Decimo, this way."

Decimo.

Heir.

Boss.

 _(Little brother.)_

Tsuna gawked.

Beside them, the policewoman had gone completely still.

"Sir?" the cop called.

Tsuna's limbs moved with a jerk. "Yes."

"Come with me. I'll take you to your men."

Tsuna's brain stuttered back to life, reset, and then proceeded to pump adrenaline in his system as if it were hemoglobin.

The policeman started to walk away. Tsuna scrambled after him.

"We weren't told to expect you," the cop said. "Did you come alone?"

Tsuna struggled to keep up. "Hm. It was ... something of a last second decision?"

 _Literally_.

"Still. If you can, try get a word of warning out next time. It'll save trouble for everybody." The man stopped next to a patrol car. "Get in." A pause. "Please."

Tsuna slipped onto the passenger seat. The car smelled of leather and tobacco. There were torn fast food wrappers on the floor by his feet. An empty bottle of water. Some crumpled tickets. Clearly, someone was spending a lot of time away from home.

The cop sat next to Tsuna, slammed his door shut, and then turned the key in the ignition. The engine gave a deep rumble and off they went, leaving the fray behind. The lights in the rear-view mirrors disappeared, replaced by the tall silhouettes of massive trees. An old forest loomed all around. There was no lamp post to pierce the night. The road curved slightly and they were swallowed by the darkness.

Just as Tsuna was beginning to wonder if he was about to get brutally murdered in the woods, the cop shifted gear. The car slowed down. They drove past the tree line and came to a stop at the edge of a large parking lot, one that offered an unencumbered view of a huge mansion nestled in a wide circle of manicured lawn. The house was ancient, an imposing monster sprawling out toward the surrounding forest.

And it was on fire.

As if a bomb had exploded under its foundations, the right wing of the residence lay in ruins. Flames were eating at the main entrance and a good part of the second floor. Shouts drifted all the way to the parking lot, frequently punctuated by rounds of gunshots.

Tsuna's stomach lurched.

A strange sensation hit him out of nowhere, like dirty water washing down over him, thick and slimy, robbing him of breath and sending his heart thudding against his ribcage.

It was this place. This place was the reason why he'd left his bed, why he'd crossed the country with no destination in mind, why he so desperately wanted to find his wayward Sun and beg him to leave together, _now, right now._

Tsuna stumbled out of the car.

Reborn.

He had to find Reborn.

"Sir?"

Tsuna glanced at his guide and realized the man was one of the few cops present in the parking lot.

Gone was the crowd of frantic uniforms. The place had been set up as a kind of temporary command center, with expensive cars parked close together to form a wall of protection. People had gathered around it, some talking into wireless headphones, others reading papers spread out over a stretchers someone had stolen from one of the two ambulances that waited a little further back, closer to the trees and away from the fighting.

None of these people looked like typical law enforcement or medical assistants.

Here, the top of a tattoo peeked up around the collar of a woman's shirt. And there, a thin scar bisecting a man's eyebrow right under his piercings. Everyone was serious and focused. The whole operation was coldly efficient, like the cogs of a well-oiled machine that turned and shifted without a hitch.

And it had mafia written all over it.

An old woman trotted past Tsuna, noticed him, and gave a sharp nod of acknowledgement. "Decimo," she said, before continuing on her way.

Tsuna threw up.

He leaned against the side of the car and hurled. Bile splashed on the asphalt. Sweat burned his eyes.

"Whoa!" His driver arrived next to him. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," Tsuna said, voice two octaves too high. "I'm completely–"

He heaved again.

More bile hit the cement. Tsuna wiped his mouth, panting. That wouldn't do. He couldn't vomit on his brother's subordinates each time someone tried to talk to him. Standing around in his pajamas while impersonation a mafia leader was bad enough.

The cop turned away from the puddle on the ground with a grimace. "Do you want me to call someone?"

" _No!_ "

The man blinked.

"I-I mean," Tsuna stammered. "I'm alright now. Thank you for the, huh, lift, but you should go back and –"

Alarmed exclamations erupted all over the parking lot.

Tsuna whipped around, just in time to see the flames licking the roof of the mansion's left wing flare brightly. A small explosion rocked the bricked walls. Tsuna gaped. He was pretty sure he'd caught a glimpse of purple fire tearing through stone and glass.

 _There_. His own Flames poked him. _This is where we must go._

They were pointing straight at the warzone.

Of course, they were.

"You've got to be kidding me," Tsuna moaned.

"Excuse me?"

"Nothing." Tsuna looked back at the policeman. "Do you – do you know what's happening?"

A shrug. "Rumors have it someone important got taken from the Vongola headquarter."

 _Taken_.

As in abducted? While the Triads were visiting? Because that sort of explained all the fighting and fires and general destruction of property with extreme prejudice. Nono must have been livid.

"You sure you don't want me to call someone?" the policeman insisted.

Tsuna had to get rid of that guy. The last thing he needed was even more attention.

"No. Really, it's fine. I don't–"

" _You_."

A voice boomed from behind them like a clap of thunder.

Tsuna paled.

He knew that voice.

Crap.

Heavy footsteps approached.

Tsuna woodenly turned around.

Coyote Nougat stomped over, a fierce scowl darkening his features. Strands of greying hair had come loose from his ponytail and hung around a face Tsuna hadn't seen in years. Deep wrinkles were etched into the skin near his eyes and mouth. He looked like a pissed off Storm about to have a meltdown.

A group of three trailed after him.

The person on the right was clearly foreign. He wore a red Chinese shirt and appeared calm and composed, almost detached, as if the entire world wasn't going to hell in a handbasket right in front of him.

The other two men were Italian. Their similar green eyes and tall frames pegged them as relatives, maybe father and son. Tsuna's attention lingered on the younger of the pair. A fleeting sensation of familiarity tugged at the back of his mind. It was in the slant of those eyes, in the way the man held his shoulders back, tense and rigid and prideful. His jacket was nowhere to be seen and nothing concealed the two sharp knives strapped to firm forearms. Both blades were stained with red.

Ottone stepped right into Tsuna's line of sight.

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

"I," Tsuna started.

Coyote whirled on the cop. "Did you bring him here?"

"Yes. The Decimo got stuck at the blockade we set up and I –"

" _The Decimo?"_

There was a beat of heavy silence.

The policeman faltered, picking up on the tension in the air. "Is there... a problem?"

Coyote's nostrils flared. "Leave."

His tone carried black clouds and lightning. The policeman ran away without another word. Tsuna watched his retreating back, a little bitter, wishing he could do the same.

Coyote focused on the trio that had come with him. "Give me a moment," he told the Asian man gruffly. "I'll be right back."

"Of course." The man raised his arms in front of him, hands folded inside his sleeves, and gave Tsuna a slight bow. "It is an honor to meet the next leader of your famiglia."

Tsuna's belly gave another spasm.

Don't throw up, he thought, a little hysterical. Don't you dare throw up again.

"N-nice to meet you, too."

The foreigner smiled and left.

Coyote looked like he'd just swallowed a lemon. He shot a glance at his two underlings. "Beat it. We need some fucking privacy over here."

The oldest man inclined his head. "Sir." He tapped his relative's shoulder. "Come on, Vito."

They retreated a few steps, clearing enough space to obey Coyote's order. The Storm watched them closely for a moment. Apparently satisfied with the distance, he turned around and speared Tsuna with a scorching glare.

"The _Decimo_? What the fuck are you thinking?"

Tsuna opened his mouth.

Then closed it.

Admitting he'd come because the little voice in his head wouldn't leave him alone didn't sound like a good idea. Potential white padded cells aside, it didn't quite explain how he'd landed in the middle of some mafia power play.

"I'm looking for Reborn," he blurted instead.

"Reborn?"

Tsuna nodded quickly. "Do you know where he is?"

Coyote's eyes narrowed. "Did he tell you to come?"

Hah. If only. Unfortunately for them all, Tsuna was a big boy and he didn't need anyone to bury himself under a mountain of problems.

"No, he didn't say anything."

"Then why," Coyote hissed, "are you fucking standing in front of me right now?"

Tsuna panicked.

Hard.

"I don't know," he babbled. "I don't know what happened and I really don't want to be here any more than you want to see my face, and I'll leave, I swear, I just – I need to find Reborn first, alright? But I don't know how, and this place is insane, and you people keep calling me _Decimo_ and it's freaking me out and I–"

Coyote held a hand up.

Tsuna shut up.

"The Vongola hyper intuition," Coyote said, "is such a bullshit."

Hyper intuition.

They actually had a name for it.

"But it shouldn't be possible," Coyote continued. "Nono made sure of it."

Timoteo had. He'd turned the blood inside Tsuna into ice and had killed the light burning in his bones. He'd said sorry. And he'd left.

Tsuna's shoulders drooped. "Just tell me where Reborn is."

"I don't know," Coyote snapped. "Bastard went off on his own as soon as shit hit the fan. He turned off his radio and no one's seen him since."

Tsuna's eyes shifted to the ruined mansion. Two mafiosos were rushing out the front door, dragging an unconscious figure between them. They clocked the ambulances and started to crawl in that direction.

"I think he went to the basement," Tsuna said. "He's looking for information."

Coyote glowered. "Such a _bullshit,_ " he repeated.

No kidding.

Tsuna bit his lips. He didn't know what to do. Even if he tried to get to Reborn, he would never make it to the mansion proper. There was no way in hell he'd survive the first stray bullet shot his way. His best bet was to wait up here where it was safe and let competent people handle the situation.

Really, he shouldn't have come at all.

Coyote grabbed Tsuna's elbow. "We've got to hide you before someone figures out your brother's supposed to be on the other side of the continent right now." He paused, then added, tone softening, "Being you, I know this is a shitty situation, but there's nothing you can do."

Tsuna squinted. "What?"

Coyote said a word.

A name.

It cut through Tsuna like a knife.

The ground disappeared from under his feet. Everything froze. No more sounds. No more yells or gunshots or roaring flames. Nothing.

Coyote was still speaking.

Tsuna turned around.

He walked to the edge of the parking lot and stood with the tips of his shoes brushing against fresh grass, watching the mansion.

The right wing was still burning. Small explosions rocked the towering residence. People teemed around the main entrance like ants, like little black insects scurrying left and right, up and down. Running and bleeding and dying.

He should have known, Tsuna thought distantly. This place was a nightmare made out of metal and fire. And he should have known.

He closed his eyes and memories crashed into him. The wide stairs leading to the underground floor with its long and winding hallways. The doors on each side concealing white rooms with their white floors and their white ceilings. People. Long coats and the occasional expensive suits coming over to check on their progresses, to frown and sigh and say, _don't waste time. No need to keep the useless ones._

Tsuna's hands moved to his neck. He rubbed the skin there. His fingers found nothing.

"This place," he heard himself say. "It belongs to the Estraneo Famiglia?"

His voice was quiet, steady. Each word was a razor blade sliding down his throat. They tasted like iron and disbelief. Like blood.

Coyote came to stand next to him. He left several feet of space between them. "You didn't know?"

"No."

Coyote muttered a curse.

Tsuna barely heard him. "Didn't you." More blood trickled down his throat. It was odd. The world was muffled, as if his head had been pushed underwater. His fingertips were tingling. He swallowed, started again. "Didn't you get rid of them?"

For a moment, Coyote said nothing.

He was staring at Tsuna, his body angled a little to the side, eyes watchful and serious. Tsuna wondered at the wary expression on Coyote's face. The Storm looked strange. Almost alarmed.

It was funny.

Except Tsuna didn't feel like laughing at all.

"We destroyed their power base," Coyote said slowly. "Killed the boss and his Guardians and very few of their men survived." He clenched his jaw. "We hunted down the rest but–"

"But you didn't get everyone," Tsuna finished.

Because obviously the Estraneo still existed.

And they'd kept on doing to others what they'd done to Tsuna.

Faces flashed in his mind. Boys and girls. Straight hair and brown locks and frizzy curls. Skins dark and pale and freckled. Dozens and dozens of them.

Coyote put a hand on his arm. "Come on. Let's go."

We'll find Reborn later, went unsaid.

Tsuna twitched. Like a flinch, or maybe something else. In a flash he understood that the promises of _you're safe_ and _it's over_ and _they won't hurt you anymore_ were lies. The monsters had survived. And they were threatening someone he cared about again.

A tremor of raw hatred ran down his spine.

Tsuna looked at Coyote's hand on his arm. "Don't touch me."

The sparks of orange Flames inside flared.

Coyote let go as if stung.

Tsuna focused back on the mansion. He stepped forward. The sole of his foot had barely brushed the lawn that a huge explosion tore through the night.

"Watch out!"

The left wing collapsed. Bricks and glass and cement all came down with a sound like thunder. Smoke billowed in every direction. It rolled out like a giant wave, thick and dark, and devoured everything in its path.

Something broke inside Tsuna.

He blinked and suddenly he was no longer in that parking lot watching a death trap snapping shut around his Sun.

A landscape of pure ice stretched out as far as the eye could see. The cracks that ran through its surface were deeper than they'd ever been before, long and jagged. The orange glow shifting and swirling underneath seemed closer. Impatient. Hungry.

Silence echoed all around, disturbed only by the sound of Tsuna's harsh breathing.

Reborn – Reborn was out there. Somewhere in that place which had once taken the Sun out of his life.

 _Never. Again._

Tsuna fell to his knees. A scream of rage ripped out of him. He punched Timoteo's ice with all his strength.

It shattered.

.

* * *

.

Here we are, finally.


End file.
